Where We Ought To Be
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: In a Universe where the Doctor was never born, what's left of his former companions struggle to find their place and to make things right again even as they feel they've forgotten something so very important. The Big Bang AU, will feature several companions Amy/Rory, Martha/Mickey, hinted Rose/Meta-crisis Doctor, hinted Doctor/River, also includes Jack and Sarah Jane COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**So I've been tossing this idea around quite a bit. It's mostly inspired I'll admit by the season four episode "Turn Left". Because honestly, I've never been able to work out all the details of the Doctor suddenly not existing. I guess I can buy that Amy remembering him causes all that stuff to actually have happened in the past, but all the same…this is me just typing out a bit of a what-if.**

**Also, I know I'm writing from a season five standpoint, but season six/seven spoilers or cannon are applicable. Just because Amy and Rory don't know River's their daughter doesn't mean she isn't. If Rory's dad is ever mentioned, then picture Brian Williams.**

**That being said, please enjoy the fic!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Prologue**

The Doctor stared down at the resting form of little Amelia Pond in silence. But he couldn't ignore what was waiting behind him. Turning, the Time Lord gazed at the Crack in the Universe, what was to be his final fate. It was mesmerizing.

How very different Amy's life would be without that memory of her Raggedy Doctor. Perhaps if he was kept to a little vision in her head she might be allowed to live a normal life, growing up without ridicule or psychiatrists and being satisfied with her dull little life in Leadworth. Well, he supposed she'd always be somewhat of an outcast, the big ginge, but he knew Amy Pond could work around that. Magnificent Pond!

He wondered if Rory might not always feel like he was playing second fiddle to a mad man made up by his fiancé. Surely it would do wonders for his self-confidence. And maybe then the nurse wouldn't be plagued by thoughts of two thousand years passing him by as he waited.

The Boy and Girl Who Waited! Well, they wouldn't have to wait anymore, that at least was certain. The night before their wedding would come and go, just like any night, and they'd be good and married. The Ponds—no, hang on, the Williamses. Amy Williams…oh, his little Amelia.

But it was what was best for her, he knew that. Best for all of them, really. How many people who would have their lives in this new universe- a universe he could never take part in, never see. Seeing it had always been enough, but he'd never get to see a world untainted by the Last of the Time Lords.

The Time Lords! Oh Rassilon, he would no longer be their ruination. What a weight off his shoulders that was! And all those people, all those creatures, all those _lives_- those wonderful lives he'd never touch and destroy.

Not just the Williamses, but everyone. Wilf and Sylvia would never have to tip-toe around Donna avoiding certain words or events- and Donna Noble would have all her memories of a nice, normal life as the best temp in Chiswick. He wondered if she'd still marry that Shaun Temple.

Martha and Mickey might never meet, but that was fine because Martha Jones could make anybody love her- except him, and that had torn her up inside. She'd never have to know unrequited love. Sarah Jane, too, might be happy as a normal investigative reporter, and maybe she'd find that something special in a human man, a good man when she would no longer be comparing the male species to something unbelievably alien.

And Mickey! Talk of unrequited love, how about lost love? He'd have his girl, his beautiful woman as the young man had always called her. His…

Rose. Oh Rose Tyler. His hearts both sped up and stopped at the thought that she'd- never- know. She'd never meet him.

But that was better, wasn't it? She'd work at Henricks and be happy with her boyfriend and Jackie and never be cruelly ripped from her own universe because he'd been unable to save her. She'd never have to be burdened with trying to pull him out of the darkness, trying to make him see the good in everything again. So what did it matter what he felt about her not remembering him? About _any_ of them not remembering him? He wouldn't have any feelings soon.

Jack, now there was a man whom he'd wronged. Captain Jack would never be killed by those daleks, would never be forced into immortality, would never be abandoned. The Face of Boe would merely be a poster boy for his home town. A contented Time Agent, if a con man.

Speaking of immortal, Ian and Barbara would never have to worry about that or about being displaced in a time machine he could barely control. His time machine. Oh Sexy, the poor old girl would still be in that museum.

Museum, museum…why did that seem familiar?...The home box! He wondered who would catch River Song as she flew out of the Byzantium…who would get to see her in that Cleopatra dress—yes he'd noticed, he'd just taken the high ground and decided to focus more on her criminal act of cutting into the oldest cliff face in the universe rather than how it was practically criminal that she cut such an impressive figure—anyway! Who would have to watch her die in that Library.

Or maybe not. Because she'd died for _him_. Just like so many others. She wouldn't die. And if…

_Is she going to be your wife someday?_

Well, not anymore. But surely her life was worth more than a husband who wasn't married.

_Not one line! Don't you dare!_

Sorry, River. He had to do this now before he lost his nerve.

"The cracks are closing," the Doctor told the silent seven year-old, not bothered by the fact she wasn't actually listening. "But they can't close properly till I'm on the other side. I don't belong here anymore." He didn't belong anywhere. Had he ever? In his long, long life he'd always been the outsider, the alien, the mad man…even amongst his own people. All that time… "I think I'll skip the rest of the rewind," he admitted, getting to his feet. "I hate repeats." He couldn't stop his voice from wavering just a bit as he prepared to leave. The small Scottish girl slept on, and the Doctor could not help but lean over her once more, just to see her one last time. His little Amelia Pond. "Live well," he whispered, not trusting his voice anymore. "Love Rory." Like she even needed telling. "Bye bye, Pond."

So the Doctor strode forward to that Crack in the Wall that had plagued him since the very beginning of this regeneration…his last regeneration. It was the greatest sacrifice he had yet to make—and also the greatest mistake.

Amelia Pond sat up in bed, confused but quite alone. She'd thought she'd heard…but no one was there. So she drifted back to sleep, never dreaming that this was the most pivotal moment of her life or that things were going to be very different and _very_ complicated when she woke up.

Because without a Doctor in the Universe…who did the Universe call?

**So yeah, that was just setting up the story, any lines you recognize from the actual show aren't mine- nor are the characters for that matter. Next chapter we get into the life of Amy Pond in a world without the Doctor. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm thrilled to see people already interested in this idea. I wasn't sure how well a season five-based fic was going to be received considering it's been almost one and a half seasons since then. But season five was the first one I watched all the way through, so those episodes have always been some of my favorites, and I feel like "The Big Bang" has such a potential for different ideas and the like. Anyway, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows, and here's the next chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter One**

Amy's eyes slowly blinked open in the dim lighting. It had to be morning, for it was practically dark in her room. That was odd, as she'd never been a light sleeper, but then again she'd been having the most fantastic dream…a dream she couldn't quite seem to remember. It was slipping away from her even now, just a swirl of sounds and colors- the blueness of the bluest blue.

Still, she couldn't see the point in thinking about that. Nor could she merely fall back asleep, already being much too awake. So Amy pushed herself up from her oddly stiff mattress—and promptly bashed her head against a very rough, very hard, very low earthen ceiling.

"Ow!" She exclaimed, dropping back onto her bed, her head resting once again on her much too lumpy pillow. "What?" She asked aloud in bewilderment, using one hand to massage the top of her head and the other to reach up and feel.

Yes, it was a ceiling of dirt. Her bedroom had a dirt ceiling. _What_? And really, her pillow _was_ too lumpy—it was a bunch of rags sewn together! Her bed- Amy spread her arms out across it and around and under –it was a cot, resting on a dirt ledge.

"What- how- where am I?" She whispered aloud to herself, for Amy was truly realizing—she had no idea where she was, or how she'd gotten there. Trying not to panic, she threw the ratty blanket off with a shiver as a damp coldness immediately set in. She gasped as her feet made contact with the freezing, smoothed out earthen floor of this wherever. But now was not the time to focus on how she was feeling temperature-wise, Amy Pond wanted to know where she was right now. She could brave a little chilliness.

At any rate, she was sure she had found her way out, at least. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the near-darkness, she was able to tell that whatever light she had at the moment to see by was on the other side of what looked like a curtain- she could see warm-looking slivers of it trying to get in around the bottom edge and the sides. So on tiptoe- partly because she was trying to be quiet, and partly just because of the cold –Amy crept forward and lifted the curtain like a tent flap.

"Good morning, Amelia!"

With a start, Amy almost jumped backwards into the tiny hidey-hole. She blinked. "Mrs. Poggit! Er- morning?" It was taking her eyes a moment to readjust to the sudden change, but Amy's eyes slowly roved about the new room.

It was hardly much of a room. The ceiling was higher than the little space Amy had just left, but still made of dirt just like the walls and floor. There were little ledges carved out like benches with tattered cushions resting on them, one of which Mrs. Poggit was sitting on. Something like shelves or cubby-holes had been dug along one wall and held all manner of things from more well-worn blankets to dusty-looking bowls to- most importantly –a couple candles held within glass jars. These tiny flickering flames were all the light she had to see by. There were two more curtains, hiding similar bedrooms to hers she assumed, and finally a wood panel, like a door, was placed in the dirt wall across from her.

"Well, yes, dear. You've nearly slept the whole morning away!" She nearly asked how the old woman could tell it was morning, but Mrs. Poggit was now peering at her curiously. "Are you feeling well, Amelia? You look rather startled."

"I- um- I'm fine," she replied, nodding as if to convince herself. She talked to Mrs. Poggit all the time, didn't she? Here in this—

Network of tunnels. That's where they were. They were underground.

Well of course they were underground, why wouldn't they be?

More importantly, where had those Silurians gotten off to…?

_Silurians_? Amy blinked again. "Where's—"

"Your aunt?" Mrs. Poggit asked knowingly. "Sharon's collecting our breakfast, just like always. I know you worry, dear, but really—oh! Amelia, you really should put your boots on, it's much too cold this morning for bare feet." The old woman shook her head in a chastising way, and Amy could only stumble backward into the darkness of her room.

Reaching to the side out of habit, Amy grabbed the thick, heavy boots with practiced ease and pulled them on, lacing them up to her mid-calf tightly, over the patched up denim of her jeans.

"Ok," she breathed out loud quietly to herself, very aware of the presence of Mrs. Poggit just behind the curtain. "I live in an underground cave with my aunt and an old lady…how did I forget that?" That dream must have disoriented her more than she'd thought. But she couldn't even remember it!

The sound of wood scraping against dirt snapped her out of her thoughts, and Amy heard Mrs. Poggit call to her, "Amelia, could you help your aunt with the door?"

"Coming!" Amy called, standing and stepping back out into their front-room. Aunt Sharon did appear to be struggling with the door as she was holding something in her hands, and so Amy took over moving the cumbersome plank.

"Shut the door, quickly now, Amelia, it's entirely too cold this morning," her aunt told her once inside, and so she hurried to move it back in place.

"What have we got today?" Mrs. Poggit asked.

"Oh, well, we had enough to make porridge today," Aunt Sharon informed them, adding in a stern, "And don't complain, Amelia, we're lucky to have such a luxury."

Amy almost wanted to pout childishly anyway, but she couldn't help but murmur to herself, "Amelia…?" She hadn't noticed before, but both of them were calling her Amelia. Nobody called her Amelia these days…she didn't think.

_My little Amelia._

She- she was Amy. She was sure of it. Nearly sure…not quite sure.

She turned to see Mrs. Poggit setting aside her work of re-sewing a rather pathetic looking pillow with a laugh. "Oh, don't be too hard on her, Sharon, sometimes I think it's me who wants to complain. Why, I remember when my father could still find us a chicken every once in a while."

"Really, Mrs. Poggit, now's not the time for tall tales," Aunt Sharon chided as she ladled out the porridge. Amelia- no, that felt wrong –Amy took her meager amount somewhat dubiously and had finished it in perhaps a minute. This was a normal portion…so why did she still feel hungry?

"Oh, but Amelia loves my stories, don't you dear?" She couldn't help but nod in response. Mrs. Poggit's stories had always been one of Amy's favorite things growing up, hearing about life above the ground. She'd always wanted to go there. Amy could barely imagine what it might really be like.

So why did it seem like she was trying to anyway?

"My dear Amelia. Oh, sometimes I think this child is a blessing sent to us, Sharon. A beautiful, sweet little girl in these times—it must be a miracle!" Mrs. Poggit paused to take another tiny mouthful of the porridge. "It may have taken all of us to raise her, but I think her parents would be proud."

Aunt Sharon put down her bowl and stood, reaching out to cup Amy's face with one hand. Her smile turned softer as she agreed, "I think they would be."

Amy smiled back in response, unable to keep from nearly glowing with the praise. What she wouldn't give to have her parents be proud of her—her parents!

"I'm going to make the rounds," Aunt Sharon announced, winding her woolen scarf back around her neck. "I should be back before evening." But Amy barely heard and barely even shuddered as their door was taken out and placed back in, letting a rush of cold air in in the process. Because she had collapsed back on one of the quasi benches and was too busy dealing with a tremendous sadness.

Her parents…how could she have forgotten about her parents? No, no, she hadn't forgotten them, she'd just forgotten what happened. Even now, the details were fuzzy.

Memories of her father were the least distinct. She remembered a small man, though he'd seemed quite large to her as a child, with graying hair. She remembered a time when they all lived together in their own little cave in the tunnels of Scotland

Amy couldn't recall exactly when they had moved to England—though perhaps moved was the wrong word. But her father hadn't come with them, he'd had to stay…it was just her and mum. But her mum hadn't been happy, she'd missed dad too much. Amy had missed him, too, but she couldn't quite grasp that he was gone back then. She'd kept waiting for him to join them and Aunt Sharon.

But mum had got tired of waiting. So when their little community's water network had been destroyed, her mother had been one of the volunteers to go up to the surface and dig a new one. After that night, Amy had never seen her mum again and no one talked about it. They had the water back, and that was what mattered.

She had overheard her Aunt Sharon whisper one word in a tone that shook with suppressed rage and fear—_Dalek_.

Amy knew all this already- or she had before this morning –so why was she sitting here trembling like she'd only just heard the news today? Why did it hurt like it was all brand-new again? What was wrong with her?

"Are you sure you're alright, Amelia?" Mrs. Poggit was watching her in a worried way, and Amy worked to even out her breathing and hide the fact that she'd been so very close to crying.

"I'm fine," she told the older woman, "Think I might have- bumped my head earlier, but um—"

"Oh, that must be why you're looking all confused today, poor dear," the elderly woman leaned forward and patted her cheek, and Amy grimaced slightly at the patronizing action. She couldn't help but agree, though; that blow to her head had to be why she was having so much trouble today.

"Yeah," she nodded, "It's just, I was thinking- about mum and dad," Amy admitted, and Mrs. Poggit's kind smile turned to a sad frown.

"Oh, Amelia, it's all right to feel sad. They were good people." Amy only nodded, and so the old woman sighed and changed topics. "I was so grateful when you and your aunt let me move in, you know, after my grandson—well, you know those young men, never content to just sit around. I still don't know if…he'd be your age, Amelia, or around it." Mrs. Poggit was gazing at something Amy couldn't see, though she tried. She thought about a young man, tall, perhaps wearing one of his grandmother's jumpers like Amy now did, but in brighter colors. Brown, floppy hair…

No! Shorter spikes, that's what she needed to remember. Short hair, somewhere in between brown and blonde, with a long, long nose…what was it? _Who_ was it? She couldn't forget him again, not when she'd only just remembered him!

But she hadn't just remembered him, she'd been sleeping and dreaming, and then she'd woken up in her little shared home…hadn't she?

_Yeah, you're home. You're also dreaming. Trouble is…which is which?_

No, this couldn't be a dream. It couldn't. She was remembering things now, her whole life, this was how it had been. Always. Whatever person- whatever things she thought she was trying to hang onto—

_In your dreams, they'll still be there._

She couldn't deal with this! Leaping up, Amy strode for the door.

"Amelia, where are you going?"

"I'm going out," was her short response, concentrating on moving the wooden board.

"Oh, to see Jeff again? Well, tell that nice young man hello. It's good that you two have each other down here, Amelia, especially after Mrs. Angelo passed on, God rest her soul." Amy tried not to roll her eyes. She and Jeff were only friends. Sure, he was one of the only boys even remotely her age in this network of tunnels, but she just didn't find him all that interesting. Fine to talk to occasionally, though. And since she didn't really have anywhere else to go…

Amy shivered as she entered the drafty corridors, rubbing her arms to try and generate some warmth as she walked what should have been a maze, but the knowledge of navigating it was quickly falling back into place. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. It seemed like the more she remembered of her real life, the more of her fading dreams she seemed to forget.

Jeff currently lived by himself in a cave in what their community liked to call 'Lower Leadworth'. His grandmother, kind Mrs. Angelo, had gotten sick the past winter and finally passed away, and the young man seemed to hardly know what to do with himself anymore. Amy knocked on his door.

"Jeff! It's me, Am- Amelia," she stumbled over her own name, still unsure why she felt so uncomfortable with it now. After a moment, the wood plank moved aside to reveal her sort-of friend.

"Hi, Amelia," he said, letting her through and pushing the door back in place. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to talk," she confessed, and Jeff merely nodded. "I feel- odd today. Like, have you ever felt like you've forgotten something _so_ important, but you can't remember it? And it doesn't make any sense, but you think maybe it's the key to everything?"

Jeff stared at her blankly for a moment. "No?"

Amy groaned in frustration. "Why did I think this would help? I need Mels," she muttered aloud and she rested her head in her hands.

"Who's Mels?"

Her head snapped up. "Well, Mels. You know, she's about our age, always getting into trouble for stealing cars and stuff, yeah?" As Jeff continued to look at her with bafflement clearly written on his face, Amy realized what it was exactly she had said. She'd never met a girl named Mels in her life. And what was a _car_? "Forget it," she shook her head, the ends swinging and brushing just below her jaw.

Amy gasped. "My _hair_!" She exclaimed in shock, grabbing at the short strands in almost horror.

"What about it?" Jeff asked in confusion.

"What happened to my hair? It's- it's short!" Sure, perhaps beauty wasn't the most important thing in the world- she wasn't even completely sure what she looked like, for that matter, as she'd never seen her reflection –but Amy took great pride in her ginger hair.

"But it's always been like that," Jeff tried to reason. "You cut it…like your mum's."

She froze in her frantic tugging at it as that memory too fell into place. "Oh," was all she could manage. That was it, after mum had died she'd cut it short just like hers to remember.

But how could she have cut it short? It had always been long, she'd always liked it long, she'd wanted it long for her—

Her wedding. Her _wedding_.

"Oh my God," she breathed, a hand coming up to her mouth as everything else about her stilled. Her wedding. She was getting married—no, this was her wedding day!

Amy's eyes darted to Jeff's leery and almost frightened face. "Jeff." He jumped. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"I- I don't know," she admitted quietly, her hand slowly coming down. "But he was a boy. He grew up with us, in Leadworth. I _know_ he did. That's real. It is—"

"Amelia, what are you—"

"Shut up!" She ordered, and Jeff did so. "He was good. He was kind. He- he—" Jeff didn't seem to be getting it. "His _nose_, Jeff!"

"Oh! Uh- yeah. Yeah, I think I remember that bloke. But- he volunteered, Amelia."

"Volunteered?" She couldn't keep her voice from going slightly hoarse.

"Yeah…no one thought he had the guts, but I think he opted for supply runs."

She felt her legs collapse from underneath and she sat, hard, on one of the earthen ledges. Supply runs were the most dangerous job a community could offer. For one measly bowl of porridge, anywhere from one man to a whole team could die. And he'd… "Stupid face," she almost cursed under her breath.

"Amelia…you ok?"

"I have to know for sure," Amy decided. She knew her aunt and Mrs. Poggit wouldn't like her to be up that late, but she was confident she could convince Aunt Sharon to let her take a shift of receiving the supplies. Weren't they due back tonight anyway? She hoped they'd be back tonight, or she wasn't sure everyone would be eating tomorrow.

Amy managed to wait out the rest of the day with this plan in mind, and when the time came, she bade her aunt and the old woman good night and made her way to the front chamber to wait with a handful of other women. It was mostly women, children, and the elderly who stayed permanently in the communities, the men choosing to take the more difficult and perilous jobs above ground. Jeff had been looking after his ailing grandmother these past few years, and so was a rare exception. Why couldn't _he_ have been one of those exceptions?

She watched in both anticipation and dread as the large boulder over the entrance was rolled aside and several men jumped down. Another man was carefully lowered—injured. _Don't be him, whoever you are_. And a final man, seeing that that task had been completed, jumped down. As his fellows began pulling the rock back into place using a system of ropes, this lone man began giving orders.

"This man has sustained an injury- I patched it up as best I could, but he needs medical attention." A group of woman carried the wounded man off. "Men, hand off supplies, then you are dismissed." The rest of the women stepped forward and eagerly took the packs from the weary men, and the crowds began to disperse through the tunnels. But not Amy- she was too busy watching.

His voice rang with authority, and he held himself straight and confident, hardly like that timid little boy from Leadworth…but it was him.

Stepping forward, the man dressed all in grays and blacks held out his pack for her to take. "Ma'am."

She didn't move to take it. "Rory," she whispered, the name tumbling from her lips wonderfully easy, and his eyes widened.

**So, what all do you think? You're going to get more explanations in the next couple chapters. But Amy's having trouble deciding what's real and what isn't. At least she's found Rory! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, time to give a little insight into what Rory's been up to. Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Two**

Rory Williams had been shaken- quite rudely, in his opinion –from his sleep in the early hours of morning. He was greeted with a very stiff back, aching muscles, shivering and damp limbs, and the anxious face of…one of his neighbors?

"It's your turn for watch," the other man had whispered before dropping to sleep on the cold, dew-covered ground that Rory himself was laying on. So it wasn't his neighbor- what was he even on about, he didn't have neighbors. There was just the community, nothing else.

There was even less than the community for him. Rory hardly spent time in the tunnels of his childhood home anymore. Much to his father's dismay, he'd volunteered for supply runs. Brian Williams had thought his son crazy, called him suicidal, even. But Rory found he couldn't just sit down in the caves and wait for others to bring him his food. If he could help, he would.

Truly, no one had expected his success, least of all him. But with an ease of what felt like years of training, Rory Williams had taken charge of the team he worked with in order to make sure they got what the community needed with as few casualties as possible. The other men now looked to him as a de facto leader of sorts, which was fine, he guessed. Outwardly he accepted it and merely gave the orders in a calm, firm voice.

Inside, on every run, however, Rory was always secretly terrified. Sure, it was exhilarating sometimes when the adrenaline was pumping through his system, and he was helping people—but there were other times when they'd been making desperate sprints across open land, jets of searing light whizzing over their heads and throwing up the already-scarred earth beneath their feet in little explosive near-misses. And sometimes it wouldn't be a near-miss, and a man- a friend –would crumple ahead of him and Rory would have to leap over his fallen body with a strangled cry of, "I'm sorry!"

He tried, he tried so hard to bring everybody back. But sometimes he just couldn't. And that shouldn't bother him so much- the others all learned or would learn to accept it and move on –but Rory couldn't help feeling a heavy guilt drag him down with each loss. Because it shouldn't have happened.

This morning, especially, he was struck with a weird sense of how true that was. He often found himself questioning why everything about life was so horrid, why they had to huddle and hide in darkness and tunnels all the time, why they were forced to send scavenging teams for their very survival. But he always ended up realizing there was no point in asking himself these questions. This was how human life had been long before he'd been born, and it'd be like this long after he was killed or died. Just the caves and the runs of the Suppliers. Him and his little ten-man team.

_You're not exactly a legion_.

Rory jumped a little in his position sitting up against a low, stone wall. Sure, he was exhausted, but that was no reason to go drifting off to sleep. He owed that at least to the others. They were trusting him. Just like all those people in 'Lower Leadworth' were counting on these supplies getting back. Back…home.

He wasn't sure if it felt right to call the tunnels 'home'. It didn't feel much like a home anymore, even if he'd grown up there, more like a rest stop. A base. When Rory thought of home, he pictured clean rooms with painted walls, proper furniture, a real bed, a constant comforting hum that seemed to sing in the air through ages and distance itself—no matter how bizarre that seemed. What was wrong with him today?

He felt completely muddled, like he was looking at everything through warped glass. How many times had he slept through the cold nights on the scorched ground with nothing but the clothes on his back to insulate him, only waking for his shift of guard duty? Too many to count, and yet today felt surreal- like all this was brand new and unexpected to Rory Williams. He felt a stranger in his own life.

Rory was left to ponder this for the remaining two hours of his shift. Then, he set about waking the men. "The community needs these supplies, so we're going to have to make the rest of the trip by nightfall. It's a long trip, but I think we can manage." They were having to go out further and further to look for supplies these days. Some of the older adults were saying they might have to dig more tunnels and relocate. He didn't see how they could; they were already stretched thin as it was in terms of workers, and they'd already been having disagreements with the communities from Glouchester.

Those were the worst, he felt. Kicking, wrestling, swiping, struggling at some unknown man in the dirt over a dusty can of vegetables or a battered box of awfully stale cereal. Who was he to say his people needed it more? He would choose not to engage in these struggles if it weren't for his dad and…

Well, there was a girl. He remembered the day she and her mother had descended into the tunnels—Amelia Pond. She was beautiful. He'd thought it then, and he certainly thought it now. He guessed that sort of made him like one of those ancient warriors or soldiers the old folks told stories of, who would ride out to battle with thoughts of a lady to bring them back home.

But she didn't even know he existed. And everyone seemed certain she would end up with that Jeff bloke, though it made his stomach turn just to think of it. Whatever may happen, however, he would continue to protect her and the community. Even if it might break his heart.

_Why do you have to be so…human?_

He shook his head again and rubbed at his face in an effort to wake himself up. The calloused skin of his hand scraped against his chin, where stubble was quickly growing into something more of a beard. For some reason that made him feel odd.

They were creeping along now, hugging broken bits of walls and scattered trees. It was in the process of shaking his head that he looked up.

"Down!" He hissed, and they all dropped to the ground, watching fearfully as a circular pod zoomed by overhead.

"Sontaran," one of the men next to him growled, and it sounded like a curse. "Why don't we ever grab a gun, eh? Teach those monsters a lesson."

"Whatever weapon we found wouldn't be a match for them," Rory explained tiredly. "And it'd be a waste of space in our packs." He didn't like hiding any more than the rest of them, but what else could they do?

The team continued on after a while in silence, one eye always trained on the sky. They were forced to halt a couple more times and it was already growing dark before they made it back.

"Who goes there?" It was the guard that they stationed whenever making these runs. Sure, he couldn't do much if someone other than the team showed up, but he would sound the alarm for evacuation.

"It's us," he said as they slowly approached.

"Yes, it is," the guard agreed as his hand opened up. Rory's eyes widened.

"Scatter!"

It was mass chaos as they all ran back for the trees and the Auton opened fire. He tried not to think about what must have happened to the actual guard. Why did these aliens enjoy taking potshots at them so much? They weren't doing anything!

"Take this!" The man from before shouted, throwing a rock at the plastic invention. It tipped over, but not before firing off one last shot. It hit the man in his knee. "Ah!"

Rory raced to his side as he crumpled and the other men went to ensure the Auton's destruction. "It's going to be ok," he reassured, no matter how untrue it was. He managed to stop his hands from shaking as he ripped a strip of cloth from the man's shirt and tied it around the bleeding wound.

"Rory!" Another man yelled, and he looked to see the others working to roll the stone hiding the entrance to the caves.

"I'm coming!" He called, slinging the injured man's arm around his shoulders and lifting them both up.

"Just leave me," his fellow team member said, but Rory stubbornly shook his head.

"I won't. You're not dead, and you're not going to die." He staggered over to the open entrance as the others jumped down. They then turned and reached up, so Rory gathered the man in his arms and lowered him, straining to make it slow and as smooth as possible. The supply team finally had him, so he jumped down as well.

Rory knew he was giving some kind of orders, but he honestly didn't care. He just felt so drained- they'd lost one man, and the other would likely never walk again. He saw a woman waiting out of the corner of his eye, so he slipped the pack from his shoulders and held it out, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to meet her eyes. Whatever was in them, curiosity or pity or fear, he didn't think he could take it. "Ma'am."

When she did not reach for the pack, however, Rory looked up at her, and it stole the breath from his lungs. It was Amelia Pond, staring at him with wonder and- dare he hope…?

"Rory," she said in a hushed voice, and it acted both as a balm on his depressed spirit and sped up his heart.

"Um- hi," he replied, immediately feeling incredibly stupid. She actually knew his name and the first thing he could think of was _hi_? No wonder everyone thought she was going to end up with Jeff.

_It would have been you, Rory. It should have been you!_

He shook his head a third time that day, and this allowed him to realize she was looking at him now almost in disappointment. What had he done wrong?

"Yeah, hi," she said. He was about to apologize for whatever it was when she asked, "Are you ok? You're not hurt, yeah?"

"No- no, I'm fine," he was quick to assure her, and felt a strange warmth at the look of relief on her face. She looked like she wanted to say more, but one of the women had come back and impatiently took the pack still hanging limply from his hands, causing them both to jump and look away. Rory was sure his face was red. When he chanced a glance, he saw her cheeks were nearly the color of her hair.

He'd always loved that about her…

"Could we, uh, talk?" She asked quietly, tilting her head in the direction of the tunnels. This at least distracted him from his disconcerting thoughts of when exactly he'd started to truly _love_ Amelia Pond. He always admired her—but he barely knew her!

"Talk?" He asked, blinking once. "Right! Yes- talking would be, um, good," he stammered, and though she rolled her eyes she was smiling at him, buoying his confidence enough to lead her down the tunnels. His dad was likely to be helping sort supplies, so he brought them to his quarters in Lower Leadworth. Rory took one of the candles and brought it into his room and they settled on his cot sitting across from each other.

"I sort of woke up feeling- odd," Amelia began, and he waited silently for clarification. "I didn't know where I was or why I was there, you know?"

He wanted to say he didn't, because it sounded crazy—but hadn't that been exactly how he was feeling this morning?

"And even now I feel like something's wrong," she continued, and he watched her nervous face in the flickering light. "Like this isn't what should be happening—I keep thinking about some- some other life, Rory, and I just—"

"Amelia," he couldn't keep from interrupting, and for some reason this caused her to flinch and fall silent. "Why are you telling me this? Why are you talking to _me_?"

"Rory," she said, sounding very urgent and looking extremely pale. "Please tell me you remember me."

"Well, of course I do," he said in mild confusion, "You're Amelia Pond—"

"No! No, I'm—I know you barely know me, Rory, but please! It's _me_. It's Amy," she pleaded, grabbing his hands and holding tight. He thought she was quite close to tears.

"I- I'm sorry," he said, truly feeling guilty for the crushed look on her face. "But I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Rory, please, you _have_ to remember," she spoke with desperation, before suddenly she stopped, dropping his hands and looking at something far away and not quite there. "_You have to remember_." She mouthed the words as if recalling them from somewhere else, and he could only watch as she leapt up and started pacing. "What- remember what?" She muttered in frustration.

"Amy," he said in a worried tone, and was struck by how familiar it felt. And he'd called her Amy.

She looked at him with a smile. "Yes- yes, that's me! Please, Rory, you have to try!"

"Try what? Try _what_?" Yes, he'd been feeling odd, too, but he could barely make sense of any of it. How could she expect him to remember? But he so wanted to, if it'd make her happy. And, as he looked at her…

"Rory Williams, from Leadworth—" she said, and he found himself finishing.

"Your boyfriend." They were both completely silent save for breathing for a long moment. And then at once, they launched at each other, meeting somewhere in the middle. He wrapped his arms around her familiar frame as she clung just as desperately. "Amy- oh Amy, how did I forget—"

"Shut up," she ordered, pulling back and crashing their lips together. And this was ok—they were in an underground tunnel in a terrible place full of terrible frightening things and he was still having trouble sorting out just how he knew her so well—they were together. After a time they broke apart.

"We should—"

"Breathe, yeah."

Amy and Rory stared at each other. How had they both thought that?

"Your hair's longer than I expected," she remarked with a rueful smile, touching one hand to his cheek.

"Yours is shorter," he reminded, and they each chuckled before embracing tightly again, her head tucked under his too-scruffy chin, and he running comforting fingers through too-short strands. They ended up sitting back on his bed like this, not speaking for some time. "So…we both remember having this sort of…other-life," he mused out loud. "What do we do about it?"

Amy appeared to be thinking on it before nodding decisively. "London."

"What?" He looked down at her in his arms, but Amy pulled back so they could see each other eye-to-eye.

"Well we can't do anything while we're stuck in Lower Leadworth," she reasoned. "So maybe we can find out more if we go to the city."

"Amy, cities are where they're based. It's where they _live_," he tried to argue, but she was as determined as always.

"And it's where we're more likely to find some answers. Come on, Rory, I need your help." Well that really wasn't fair, was it? He'd do anything to help her.

"Alright," he acquiesced reluctantly, and tried his best not to return her victorious grin. "But we're going to have to be really careful."

"Of course," she agreed, but any further conversation was cut off by the sound of the front door being moved aside. Their eyes widened as they heard a man—Brian Williams—struggling with the wood plank, and not knowing what else to do, Rory blew out the candle, leaving them in darkness.

"Rory, are you in?" They heard Mr. Williams call, and he swallowed nervously.

"Yeah, dad. Um, I'm trying to sleep."

"I guess you would be tired," was the reply. Rory gave a slight jump and barely suppressed a yelp of surprise as Amy settled down on the cot silently and patted the space next to her. What if they got caught? But she couldn't leave now, his dad would see her! "Good night, Rory."

"Good- good night, dad," Rory managed, finally giving up and lying down next to his girlfriend—his fiancé. Amy grinned at him in the dim light provided by Brian's single candle outside. That was the last he saw before his father blew it out.

"Good night, Rory," Amy whispered.

"Good night, Amy," he breathed just as quietly.

Rory honestly did not think he would sleep a wink that night, he was so nervous, but the next thing he knew, the candles were relit and Amy was gently shaking him awake. "Your dad just left," she told him. "Time to go."

She must have pulled his boots off in the night, so he set to work refastening them as Amy dropped his pack next to him and pulled one on herself. "How did you—"

"Snuck down to the Supply Room. We've got enough food for a couple days, didn't want to take anymore," she admitted, and they exchanged guilty glances. The two then set off for the entrance. It was tough work getting the stone to roll by themselves, but after one last mighty tug they got it open. Rory climbed back up to the surface, glancing around carefully for any suspicious movement.

"It can take some getting used to," he warned Amy as he reached down to pull her up. She was even thinner than he remembered from the other-life, probably due to the scant rations of the tunnels they'd grown up in, so it wasn't difficult. "It's really bright and the air's way cleaner and—"

But by this time Amy had cleared the opening and gasped. Rory could only watch as she knelt on the ground next to him, staring with wide eyes and taking it all in.

"It's amazing…" she murmured, "And terrible."

**So the Ponds have started on an epic journey! What will they find when they reach London—who knows? Well, I do, but that's beside the point. At any rate, thanks once again for the feedback. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok, so I'm back after taking a break to watch some of the earlier episodes since I want to make sure all the characters are recognizable. And also, since it was such a pressing concern—no, Rory does not have a ponytail, he's just scruffy. I apologize if I had you worried there, because I know that ponytail was horrendous. Anyway, on with the chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Three**

"It's bloody freezing out, what's taking so long?"

"Come on, keep the line moving!"

"Shut it, you'll get your turn!"

The horde of people jostled each other and shuffled back and forth, agitation and impatience written into every feature so you could hardly tell anyone apart. One man, stumbling backward a bit from getting bumped, stepped right on her foot, and she couldn't suppress a tiny, "Ouch!"

"Watch it, that's my daughter!" Next to her, her mum gave the offender a good whack on the shoulder and he hurried off with his prize- a steaming bowl of mush. She couldn't help but to follow it hungrily with her eyes. "Come on, Rose, we're next," Jackie prodded gently, and Rose Tyler followed her mother to the front of the queue.

"Um- two, please," Rose said, her eyes darting about, but never quite staying on the thing—the machine—behind the stand. It wasn't like there was much to look at; the robotic-like body was pure white with absolutely no features, rounded and smoothed over where even the face should be. It took a ladle and scooped out two servings of the mush, ladling one into each bowl.

"This is a kindness," it spoke in a monotonous voice, as it did every time. She still had yet to figure out how exactly it did that without a mouth.

"Yeah, thanks, mate," she muttered, handing one bowl to her mum and taking the other herself.

"Move along!" The woman behind her urged, and Rose couldn't help rolling her eyes.

"Alright, alright, keep your shirt on!" Jackie exclaimed as they shuffled off. "Careful, Rose, you don't want to spill any."

"I know, mum, you've been telling me since I could hold it myself," she reminded somewhat wearily, but Rose wasn't really mad with her mother. She was just tired- tired of the filth and grime, tired of hungry and irritable people, and mostly just tired of _mush_. And yet, she was one of those hungry people living in filth, so she scarfed it down quick as she could. Jackie watched her with that motherly concern in her eyes.

"Tell you what, I could go out and look for work again—Lady Relnak could probably use someone to do the washing up around her place—"

"No, mum, it's alright. If anybody in this family is going to work, it'll be me," she interrupted stubbornly as they turned into the alley-space between two buildings. "You've already done so much for me. I'm _twenty-four_, mum."

"Yeah," her mother replied, smiling softly just a little. "But you'll always be my Rose- the most wonderful little girl on Earth." Rose tried to smile back, but—

_Oh, suddenly the entire world revolves around you_.

A nagging little voice, that sounded part mocking and part lightly teasing. Yet it sent a shiver down her spine all the same.

_Shiver and Shake_.

"Rose, you're shaking," Jackie's voice almost broke her out of this strange reverie she was having, and yet still it persisted.

_Oh, I'm Shake._

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head a bit. "Nothing, nothing, mum. I'm fine…" she looked about for distraction, and turned away from her mother to toss the empty bowl in a nearby rubbish bin. "I was just- thinking about something."

"Well that's just like you, isn't it? With your head off away in the clouds. Talk about getting a job, you're never going to if you can't really concentrate." She knew Jackie was just chastising her out of worry, but still she felt annoyed at the words. What was so wrong about having her head in the clouds? It was way better than having it down here in this alley-shack they called home.

"I think I'll head out, see if Mickey's free," she excused herself, heading back out to the street again.

"Well you tell him hello from me, you hear?"

"Ok!"

She walked the streets, head held high—Rose Tyler was truly an oddity in this world. She was a resident of what one might call south-east London, but that made it sound too nice. It was a slum, an overflowing slum filled to the brim with desperate, starving people. Almost all of London was a slum. The world was a slum.

Except the citadels. That was where _they_ lived.

With her gaze lifted, Rose could see as ships went in and ships went out, whizzing about those clouds her mother said she had her head in. Day and night you could hear the drone of engines, see lights flashing across the skies. Back and forth from the unknown up there to the towering skyscrapers in the heart of London. The citadel of England.

Every country had a citadel. Mickey called them bases. And she supposed that was what they were. Places where these monsters could park their ships and put up a flag and say this land is _ours_.

Trouble was so many of them had done this over and over that it was hard to tell who owned what anymore. Citadels had a mix of practically anything you could think of living in them, but there was always a hierarchy. Sometimes they were living under the strict but mostly benign rule of the Silurians. Other times they huddled in their huts in fear as daleks fanned out in a formation in the sky. What was the worst was when something like an asteroid would hover above and they would know—the Sycorax were raiding for more slaves.

The Tylers, of course, would always consider one year to be the worst. The Cybermen Takeover…oh her dear dad.

Rose realized she'd stopped walking and shook her head once again. Why was she having all these thoughts? It was like she was reliving her whole life as if…as if she was trying to remind herself of it. But why did she need reminding, she hadn't forgotten it. And yet she'd been feeling this way and hearing those voices- those little whispers that made no sense –for at least the past week.

"Hey, there's my beautiful woman," a familiar voice said, and Rose found herself smiling as Mickey emerged from the alley where he lived. She met him under an awning and wound her arms behind his neck and he slipped one around her waist, their lips pressing together.

_You've still got Mister Mickey, then?_

Her mouth stopped moving against his, why she couldn't say. It just felt…off, somehow. Rose wasn't sure if she felt comforted or hurt by the fact that he had stopped at the same time. Both pulled away, searching the other's face for something. All she could see in Mickey's eyes was confusion and uncertainty before he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat, releasing her from his hold. She stepped back and cast around for something to say.

"So how's the job going?"

"Oh come on, Rose, you know I don't like talking about that," Mickey sighed, now physically turning from her and she grimaced, reaching out for his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it." Mickey helped repair banged-up transport discs for the Silurians, the current ruling class of England. Some people theorized the discs were being used to dig out people hiding in the country. Rose knew it hurt Mickey to think he was dooming other humans, but he needed the work. _She_ needed work soon. They couldn't live off of charity mush for the rest of their lives; already it was taking a toll on both her and Jackie.

"It's fine," he replied shortly, then winced when he turned to see the sad, guilty frown on her face. "Hey, how about we go and watch some sport? I hear the Sontarans are having another gladiator match."

She chuckled weakly even as she let him lead her along. "Not really in the mood to stand in a sweaty crowd and peer over people's heads just to watch some bored aliens wrestle, thanks."

"Well, maybe just a drink then. Come on, I'll pay," he insisted.

"Ok, ok," she finally acquiesced, which got a smile out of both of them. And yet as they passed another alley she couldn't help noticing something. Just in the corner of her eye—a young couple, sitting with their backs to a wall and leaning against each other in exhaustion. They were both thin and incredibly pale-skinned under the dirt smeared on the faces, with tattered, heavy clothing caked with mud in some places. Two packs sat beside them, but other than that they were unremarkable.

And yet…she felt drawn to them.

OoO

The sun was steadily climbing the sky, but dreary clouds overhead made that unimportant. In the cold, dull lighting Amy looked out across the expanse of wilted browns, charred blacks, and the occasional grey slab of stone. There was nothing up here. No vibrancy, no cheer, no life- it was just like the tunnels. She'd wondered why they'd come to rely on such places so much, but who would honestly want to stay up here?

Any ideas of going on some kind of magic journey like Alice or Wendy Darling flew immediately from her head as she took the scene in, Rory standing quietly beside her and ready to answer any questions. How noble he was to repeatedly ascend up into this danger-fraught Hell that was supposed to be the Earth, all for the sake of a bunch of Leadworth villagers who likely didn't even truly appreciate it!

She turned to his solemn face and said, "Let's go." Staying in one place on this barren landscape was unnerving, and maybe if they started moving they'd come across something better.

They walked during the days, staying close to whatever cover they could find and stopping several times to hide from foraging teams and rogue aliens alike. Once they heard sounds of a battle going on—though it was more of a slaughter judging by the never ending human screams. Her first impulse was to run to the noises, because there were people who needed help, and she was sure that would have been Rory's inclination if he wasn't so determined to protect her. So she was dragged, struggling all the while, behind a wall as they waited it out.

"How often does that happen?" She couldn't keep from asking in a wavering voice.

"Too often," was Rory's response and she could tell the admission hurt. Amy closed her eyes and leaned against the wall for support.

She couldn't help but notice that this wall was different from most others she had seen. Though some of it had caved in providing their entrance, it was higher than most she had encountered and it was not made of stone. She ran a hand along the smooth off-white color and slowly turned around.

They were inside, enclosed by three more walls in various states of disrepair. A door, a real proper door with a knob and hinges, was rotting and slightly ajar, showing more walls beyond it. A table, two of its legs broken and collapsed, was resting in the center of the room, with dusty counters and cabinets around the edges of the space. A couple other things Amy found she couldn't name unless she concentrated really hard—_stove, refrigerator_—were also present.

"This is a…house?" Rory tested the word out and Amy slowly nodded.

"A- kitchen, yeah?" They looked at each other, and realized that this was something from the other-life, something that was normal. Something they had had. She wanted it back.

"They're leaving," Rory observed, and they watched together as a strange web-star of a ship rose into the air and zoomed off. "It's safe to go." They were very careful to avoid whatever carnage had been left behind.

At night, Amy would lie next to Rory and stare up at the black expanse from which these aliens would come. And it was terrifying, but breathtaking—and yet oh so cold.

A moon riddled with far too many craters would cast its feeble light upon them, and if she searched very hard for a very long time she could see other tiny pinpricks of light- stars, like their sun, or maybe planets –but far away and so few. Sometimes she wouldn't notice a star until suddenly light would explode from the sky, flaring outward for one amazingly awful moment, and then darkness as that light faded. Nothing but inky darkness would be left in its place.

"Suppose that's another one getting blown up or destroyed," Rory would murmur each time, and tighten his grip on her as though that would protect them from being the next celestial body to die.

"Can't we do anything?" She'd asked the first time she had witnessed the spectacle.

"Amy, it's I don't even know how many billions of light years away," he'd shaken his head, "it's probably been dead for a thousand years and we're just seeing it now. We'd need a ship, for starters—we'd need better than that, actually. We'd need something that could- could, I don't know, travel faster than time."

"Faster than time," she'd repeated slowly, before resting against him once more.

They could see their destination days before they reached it, and were in awe of the buildings that loomed high and higher into seemingly space. She couldn't help but feel a little thrill of excitement- what could be waiting for them in the city?

"Do you think things are better there- for humans?" Rory wondered out loud, and she honestly couldn't say.

What they found was hardly different from their lives back in the caves, just above ground. The skyscrapers they had seen from far away were surrounded by endless alleyways and ghettos overflowing with people almost as dirty as they were, and just as rail-thin. They wandered about staring with wide eyes and occasionally looking at each other, as if to ask what had happened to London. Such a great city—in the other-life, she now realized.

"Let's just rest a minute, yeah?" Amy suggested, needing it more to collect her thoughts than to catch her breath. Rory agreed easily and they slid down against an alley wall sitting side by side.

It had been foolish to come here, she confessed in her head. What on Earth was she hoping to accomplish? Yet, they would hardly be better off in Lower Leadworth.

"…a drink then. Come on, I'll pay," a male voice drifted to her ears.

"Ok, ok," was a woman's reply, and Amy glanced up to see a couple, maybe two or three years older than them, walking down the street. That wasn't really unusual, but then she met the blonde woman's eyes.

Then she couldn't help but feel that maybe they'd found what they were looking for.

OoO

"Hello," Rose remarked and Mickey drew to a stop beside her a moment after she did. "You two look like you could use a good drink."

"We're pretty thirsty, yeah," the woman of the pair replied for them, and Rose couldn't help but notice her accented voice and vibrant red hair.

"You- you're Scottish!" Mickey exclaimed in surprise, and the young woman rolled her eyes, which made her companion chuckle.

"Course I am," was the cross reply.

"Then what are you doing here?" She couldn't help but ask, feeling a mounting curiosity. Scotland was an awful long way away.

"It was Amy's idea," the young man sitting against the wall admitted.

"And you agreed, you numpty," the woman named Amy pointed out, and her friend raised his hands in surrender.

"Right, so…we're just sort of looking for something, um- odd, I guess," the man finished lamely, and Rose and Mickey exchanged interested, yet skeptical looks.

"So where're you from, then?" Mickey questioned.

"Leadworth," they answered in a monotonous unison, conveying with that one word the opinion they had of the place.

"That's still pretty far," Rose commented, then walked into the alley proper and held out her hand for Amy to take. "Let's get you up, then, see if my mum can't get you cleaned up just a bit nicer." Mickey pulled the other man up next to her and soon all four were heading back the way Rose had just come. The two out-of-towners were staring about in open wonder at the scene, though any time a ship passed overheard- no matter how high up it was or how small –they would immediately tense and hug the shadows.

"'Spect you haven't really been to a city before, huh," Mickey half-asked, and the two merely nodded. "It's some getting used to, but this is the citadel of London, England." He scowled slightly as he added in a lower tone, "What's left of it anyway."

"Mickey," she chided gently, "They probably don't want to hear about that after they just got here."

"Actually—" the still un-named man began, but Amy spoke up right over him.

"We're here looking for answers."

"Answers to what?"

Their new acquaintances exchanged uncertain glances. "We, um, don't really know," the man admitted.

Mickey couldn't suppress a snort, even as Rose gave him a little shove for being rude. "Well good luck with that, then," he snickered.

"We know it sounds crazy—mad, even," Amy replied, "But Rory and I…it's like we can remember some sort of other-life sometimes- and then this one doesn't seem as real."

Rose stopped walking at her words. Because weren't those exactly the ones she could use to describe her own situation?

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we never really talked much before this happened," Amy said in example, "But then we started remember this other-life where we were engaged. And that sounds weird, but we both just sort of feel it to be true, yeah?" Rory was holding the redhead's hand, and Rose saw him give it a comforting squeeze.

"Does that work in the opposite, then?" Mickey questioned abruptly, and she couldn't help thinking on their awkward kiss. What exactly had she been feeling then? Like it shouldn't- it wasn't supposed to be him. In this other-life these two could see, were she and Mickey together?

"We don't really know," Rory replied with an apologetic shrug. "So far it's like we're the only ones who can feel it."

"Just strange things that you think happened to you, but never really did?" Rose asked for clarification, and the two nodded. Well, maybe she couldn't _see_ some other-life, but maybe she could hear it. "What about voices?"

"Voices?" Amy asked sharply, and she noticed both Rory and Mickey lean in closer with interest.

"Yeah, it's like I'm just thinking…and I hear this voice. Like he's talking to me." She hadn't really thought about it until she'd said it, but it was a him, wasn't it?

"Well- yeah," Amy admitted, her eyes darting to Rory for a moment. "I mean, I hadn't really said anything, but sometimes I hear it, too."

"And me," Rory added helpfully.

"Me too," Mickey said quietly, a worried look on his face. "We're all hearing the same voice?"

"Could that be it, then? The other-life?" Rose asked, and Amy seemed to be speaking her thoughts out loud.

"What, like we all knew this one man and now that we don't remember him we're living in a slum?"

"Oh come off it," Mickey disagreed, a disbelieving smile coming to his features. "One bloke couldn't have changed all this."

"I don't know," Rory looked unsure. "But it has to mean something, doesn't it?"

She hoped so, because just thinking about this voice she had been dismissing beforehand, just trying to put some type of a name or a face to it, was causing a strange feeling of excitement and anticipation. Rose looked at Amy, and the two women couldn't keep from grinning.

Whoever this mystery voice was…they were going to find out. Together.

**So there's the introduction of Rose and Mickey. My first time ever writing for Rose, so I'd appreciate hearing how I did. At any rate, thanks for reading and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the quick responses guys, and the feedback. Things are really going to start coming together soon, so I hope you're all ready for the next chapter.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Four**

Amy followed the blonde woman and her friend down another alley and into, for lack of a better word, a tiny little shack, one of many that lined the walls of the alley.

"Back so soon?" An older woman with a resemblance to their new female acquaintance remarked as she continued to patch up what looked like an old tattered sweater.

"Yeah, mum, but I brought some company."

"Oh!" She looked up and caught sight of Amy and Rory, standing to come greet them. "Hello, I'm Jackie, I didn't realize—you should have said something beforehand, Rose. The place is a mess!"

Rose rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "I didn't know I was going to bring people home. Mickey and I just sort of- found them."

"Found them? What, like strays?"

"They're new in town, Jackie," the dark skinned male explained. Jackie laughed a little in disbelief.

"You don't really get people moving about. That's unusual."

"Yeah," Rose agreed noncommittally as she gave the others a look before continuing. "Speaking of unusual, mum…you haven't noticed anything odd have you?"

"How do you mean?" Jackie asked in confusion, and Rose tried to shrug it off.

"Nothing, I just meant maybe some thoughts or—forget about it," she gave a little laugh as though to dismiss the conversation.

"No, I haven't. I'd be worried if I did. But- tell you what," the mother said in an attempt to try and lift their spirits. For Amy and Rory had each slumped a little in disappointment. Why was it only the four of them who could see how wrong this all was? "I heard something you wouldn't believe on the street yesterday."

"What was it?" Mickey asked in mild interest.

"Well, you know a few years back when there was that ordeal with the plasma-whatsit hiding in the city, and that girl agreed to testify in front of the Shawdow something?"

"Shadow Proclamation," Rose breathed, as though the words were not her own.

"Right," Jackie nodded absently. "Well, they're letting her go, she's coming back."

"Took them awhile, didn't it?" Mickey remarked with a wry grin. "That was what, 2007?"

"It was," Jackie agreed, a slight frown tugging at her face. "Poor dear, I've heard her family'd lost hope of ever seeing her again. It's a lucky day to be a Jones, all I can say," the older woman shrugged, but Amy was more concerned with the way Mickey had literally froze as if struck dumb.

"Be a who?" Rose asked aloud, and it looked like she was concentrating very hard on something just out of reach.

"That's the name they keep saying. Martha Jones," Jackie elaborated, before heading for the exit. "Listen Rose, if I'd known we'd been having company, I wouldn't have agreed, but I said I'd watch the kids for—"

"It's ok, mum, just go," Rose interrupted dazedly, still staring off at something unknown.

"Alright, alright," the woman said, before giving Amy and Rory one last strained smile, "It was nice meeting you both."

"Uh, you two," Rory spoke to her retreating back, but Amy was already rounding on Mickey, who looked amazed and horrified all at once.

"Who is she? Who's Martha Jones?"

He didn't answer at first, still quite shaken, so Rose spoke instead. "I don't know, but I feel like- like I should…like I've met her somewhere. That other-life, I guess."

"Martha…" Mickey said hoarsely, and Amy found herself reaching out to the man and placing a hand on his arm.

"Mickey," she tried more gently. "Who is she?"

"She- she—oh god, Martha—she's my wife!" He suddenly exclaimed, causing all of them to jump.

"Well, that's…good news, I guess," Rory finally commented uncertainly.

"You're _married_?" Rose asked in an accusing tone, crossing her arms, and Mickey paled and backed up defensively.

"Rose, I didn't know- I didn't remember it until now, honest! But- but she is! I can just _feel_ it, you know?"

"Yeah," Amy agreed, finding Rory's hand and taking hold of it. "I do." She noticed that Rose was looking back and forth at each of them, and was struck by how…lost the blonde felt.

"So, where's that leave me?" She asked hesitantly. "I mean, why don't I remember anyone?" Left unspoken, the question rang out clear: _Who've I got?_

"Rose," Mickey said softly, a look of guilt on his face as he stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I still can care about you, you know? You and Jackie- you've been like family to me. I'm still- I'm still here for you, alright?" He seemed a bit uncertain of what else to do, so he patted her shoulder once.

"Right," Rose said quickly, nodding as if to convince herself, and Amy wasn't really sure what to say or how to make this better. "Well, you should probably go see her when they bring her back—she must be missing you."

"And if Mickey remembers the other-life…then she has to as well, right?" Rory asked the group, and each of them agreed. It seemed a logical assumption. "So then, maybe she knows more- since she's been up with that…Shadow…thing." He looked slightly sheepish at Amy's amused grin.

"Proclamation," Rose corrected, also smiling a bit.

"Yeah, but what exactly is a Shadow Proclamation, I'd like to know," Mickey mused aloud. "What do they do?"

"They're…I think they must be like some kind of- of a government? No, that's not right," Rose shook her head in frustration. "But they must deal with inter-planet stuff. I mean, somebody's got to."

"Surprised they don't do more around here," Amy remarked bitterly. "All these aliens running around doing what they want, this is a level five planet," she scoffed, but felt gradually wary under the other's stares. "What?"

"Say that again," Rose requested.

"Ok…this is a level five planet," Amy repeated slowly, the words suddenly sounding strange and nonsensical from her own lips.

"Now tell us what that means."

"I—I- I have no idea," she murmured in shock.

"Where'd it come from? The voice?" Rory suggested.

"Must be," Mickey agreed. "But she's not just hearing it, she's _using_ it."

"Well, what about the Shadow Proclamation?" Amy said, feeling a little defensive at the strange looks the three of them were pinning her with. "I mean, you probably don't know what it actually means, yeah?"

"Everybody in the slums has at least heard the phrase once, though," Rose argued, shaking her head somewhat. "And yeah, I'm pretty sure what bits I know about it in my head are just that voice, but you…you were using his words. And it was natural."

She had to work a minute to get her quickened breathing out of control, but couldn't stop her nerves from making her heart thud faster and faster in her chest. "Well what does that mean?"

Rose smiled wryly. "I've got no idea," she replied with a shrug. "Maybe you've got the most tangible connection to it—to him, I mean."

She noticed Rory frowning a bit at this, so she hastened to point out, "But I don't hear it any more than you do. Only sometimes when I'm just thinking or not really doing much. I'm not- I'm not special or something."

"But Amy…" Rory said as if realizing something. "I was sort of hearing the voice and feeling a bit off, but it wasn't until you started talking to me that I remembered the other-life. You _made_ me remember."

"Same with us, just now," Mickey added, acknowledging Rory's reasoning. "Rose and me- we didn't have a clue what was really happening till you showed up."

"I don't know what it is, Amy, but it's got to have something to do with you," Rose finished with a note of finality in her voice.

"But- but I don't know either," Amy couldn't help pointing out, feeling annoyed with herself for not knowing more, and disappointed that she had to let down the others this way. "I don't know what to do." She looked to Rory for reassurance, and he wrapped an arm around her in a one-arm hug. "Why me?"

_Amy Pond…the girl who didn't make sense. How could I resist?_

She nearly wanted to ask, "Who are you?" but thought talking aloud to the voice in all of their heads might make this all even worse.

"Look, you both are probably exhausted," Rose said. "How about we turn in early and talk about what we should do tomorrow?"

She readily accepted the idea, feeling rather drained by this discussion. But she was to find no respite in sleep.

OoO

She was in the caves again, she thought. Except the torch light had gone out and a foul, stale smell hung in the hair, causing her to put a hand over her mouth and noise in a futile attempt to block the odor.

When Amy walked forward, however, she was accompanied by the sound of sloshing water, the feel of it rushing over and into her shoes making her curl her toes in discomfort, and the ground felt less solid than it should. Instead it was soft and…squishy.

"Well this is just bloody terrific," she grumbled, "How do I get out of here?"

Just as the words left her lips, she felt it—something had hold of her and was pulling her _down_. "Wha—" She managed to exclaim when she was chest-deep in the murky water, her legs kicking at the unknown beneath and her arms reaching up above her head. Reaching for what? No one was here to grab hold of her.

It wouldn't have mattered, for now she was sucked down, down, down, further than she would have believed possible until Amy finally felt whatever it was stop and she opened her eyes to stumble forward into the space she found herself in.

Which was another cave. Oh, great. At least this one actually looked and felt like a proper underground tunnel, she could tell by the torchlight. It had neater corners, like it had been purposefully constructed rather than hastily carved out for survival like Lower Leadworth. And by the torchlight she could make out a high, heavy-looking set of wood doors, with a plank laid across to keep them shut.

Well, that was the only way to go unless she wanted to hang around the cobwebs all day, so Amy decisively strode forward, intent on passing into whatever chamber lay beyond, but halted at the sight of- something not right.

A piece of paper, taped onto the wooden plank, right in front of her, like she was meant to read it. In red pen were the words, _Not yet, Pond_.

"Not yet?" She murmured in confusion. What did that even mean? But before she could puzzle over it too much, something tapped her shoulder. And Amy whirled about to find—nothing.

"Who's there?" She demanded, sounding angry but quite honestly feeling frightened. She wanted out. Slowly facing back around—

Amy gasped. The piece of paper was gone. In its place was a brochure for…the National Museum. The National Museum? It was advertising an exhibit of Human Art, which had been circled in that same red pen. _Come along, Pond_.

OoO

Amy gasped and shot up from her position on the ground. She was lying next to Rory on some rag-blankets, no better really than her little hole-in-the-wall back in Lower Leadworth. But that dream…what had that meant?

"The National Museum?" Rory repeated when she told them all about it. "Does that even exist in this world?"

"Yeah, it's part of the citadel," Mickey informed them.

"What is a citadel?" Amy couldn't help but ask, curious as to the existence of such splendor existing alongside such abject poverty.

"Well, different aliens have control of different parts of the Earth," Rose explained, "So they're sort of like capitals of each territory."

"How'd they decide that?" Maybe the more they knew about this wrong world, the more they might remember what was actually true.

Mickey gave a derisive snort. "They didn't. My gran told me that they fought each other all the time, nobody wanted to compromise."

"But then the daleks came," Rose continued in a more solemn tone. "And they started to destroy everything. Until the Time Lords."

She felt herself sitting up a bit in interest. Time Lords?

"I've never heard of those ones," Rory commented.

"Well they didn't stick around, did they?" Mickey replied. "Too busy with their 'Time War' or whatever up there," he jerked his thumb in the direction of the sky.

"The different alien groups came together to ask them for help," Rose elaborated, "So the Time Lords made Earth another war front for a while, and managed to drive the daleks off. Then they drew up sort of boundary lines and left."

"Yeah, left us to be enslaved or die," Mickey finished bitterly.

"How could they do that?" Amy asked, almost to herself. "Time Lords are- are—" it was strange, but when she had heard Rose speak the title, it was like a sense of _happiness_ overtook her. Like her brain was saying, _Time Lords good, daleks bad_.

"They don't interfere, or some rubbish," said Mickey.

_We are observers only…I never get involved in the affairs of other peoples or planets_.

But that wasn't true. It couldn't be. She just knew it.

"Unless there's children crying," the answer came to her, and she breathed it just above a whisper. There were plenty of children crying now. She'd cried nearly every day of her childhood in this terrible life. So where was he?

"Amy…?" Rory asked, drawing her out of her melancholy thoughts as he reached out and brushed a tear off her cheek.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Anyway, the museum. I think we need to check it out."

_Let's go and have a look_.

"But what exactly are we looking for?" Rory wanted to know.

"Well, something in the Human Art Exhibit, yeah? That's what I saw in my dream."

"It just seems sort of far-fetched," he pointed out.

Rose came to her defense. "We got any other ideas?"

"Well I'm not going anywhere until Martha gets back and I know she's safe," Mickey told them adamantly.

"And I thought we agreed that she'd probably know more than the rest of us," Rory backed up the other man. Amy and Rose looked at each other before turning back to face the men.

"Ok, stupid face, you and Mickey can pick up Martha," she began.

"And I'll go with Amy to the museum," Rose finished with a satisfied smile.

"I don't know that splitting up's such a great idea," Mickey replied uncertainly.

"Well we're wasting time," Amy shot back crossly, "and we can do this ourselves."

"I mean, if you're sure…" Rory finally said slowly.

"Course we're sure," Rose grinned, putting a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Glad that's settled."

"Alright, then best get started. It's nearing noon now," Mickey stood, and they all moved about the little shack.

"This'll be interesting at least," Rose said to her, "you're going to get to see the inside of a citadel."

And despite the fact they were on an impossible quest given to her in a dream, Amy couldn't help but feel the thrill of adventure course through her.

**Got a bit stuck with school work and writer's block for a few days, but now I'm back. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the longer wait, and I hope to hear how I did from you all. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So, you guys are pretty much awesome. I'm pleasantly surprised people are still interested in this, what with recent season seven developments. I should probably mention that this is AU only in that it's sort of inserted into "The Big Bang", but will not affect any events that happen in seasons six or seven. With that said, onwards!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Five**

Rory was worried. He guessed he was always a rather uneasy person, always thinking about what might go wrong. But it was really only because while people like Amy saw the excitement in adventure, Rory Williams saw the danger. And in this strange, terrible world, he wasn't too sure how bad it was going to get.

Even worse, they were splitting up, meaning he wouldn't be able to watch out for Amy. It wasn't that he didn't think his fiancé could take care of herself, and he was sure Rose was just as capable as the redhead, but still.

But it wouldn't be fair to leave Mickey on his own. And he just might need help explaining things to his sort-of wife. This was why Rory found himself hurrying with Mickey down the streets of the slums.

"Jackie says they're going to be dropping her off here," Mickey said, likely more to reassure himself than Rory as they entered a rather crowded square. They people were gathered around the edges of it in a ring, leaving the center open and empty, so the two men stopped beside them, deciding not to draw attention to themselves.

The people shuffled about and murmured to each other, but all sound abruptly broke off as something like a spotlight shone down on the cobblestones accompanied by a loud, otherworldly noise, a person rippling into appearance.

The light and noise shut off, and Rory could see properly. She was a fairly young woman, with dark skin and black hair that looked like it could shine if the woman had opportunity to take care of it, but was now held up in a messy, ragged ponytail. Her face looked nervous uncertain, but then—

"Martha!" An older woman of similar appearance, but prematurely graying hair, rushed out of the crowd and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Mum!" Martha Jones exclaimed in shock and wonder, seeming to not quite believe she had been reunited with the woman. She finally managed a shaky laugh and wrapped her own arms around her, but Rory saw her eyes scanning the crowd, cataloguing everything—the look of a soldier.

Her eyes passed over him, dismissing him as not-a-threat, but then they stopped on Mickey, who had frozen stiff as soon as she had appeared.

"Martha?" Mickey whispered almost questioningly.

"Mickey." Rory saw the name form silently on the woman's lips before she disentangled herself from her mother and ran forward. "Mickey!" Martha cried, flinging herself into his open arms.

"Martha, Martha," Mickey murmured into her hair over and over as the pair rocked side to side, gripping each other so fiercely Rory though they might fuse together. He chose to stay silent, knowing exactly what the two were going through.

"Mickey, oh my God," he heard Martha breathe, "it's _you_, it's really you. I- I thought—" Most of the people were already dispersing, the alien phenomenon over for the day, but Martha's mother was walking towards them with a bewildered and not-that-friendly look on her face. Uh-oh.

Martha seemed to have enough wits about her to realize what was moments away from happening. Reluctantly, she pulled away from the man. "Mum," she started, somewhat warily, "this is going to sound mad, but- I know Mickey. _You_ even know him, or you did, or—" she broke off at the frown appearing on the other woman's face and seemed to collect her thoughts.

"I don't know how, or even why, but when I got taken up there by the Judoon," she pointed up to the sky, and her mother seemed to flinch at the physical reminder, "it was like I'd stepped into another world. But a world I'd already _been_ to. And Mickey was there, and I- well," she reached out and grabbed the other man's hand. "Please, mum, just trust me," she pleaded.

Mother's mother stood there a moment, likely thinking of a million logical reasons to protest this, but at last deflated. "You're home. That's all that matters." With a grateful smile, Martha again embraced the woman. Rory was starting to feel rather awkward standing on the outside of this whole thing.

At last, the older woman pulled back. "Leo has work, I promised I would watch his children…" she looked reluctant to leave.

"It's ok," Martha reassured with a gentle smile, so walking backwards to keep her daughter in sight as long as possible, the mother and grandmother left the square and turned down an alley. Martha's smile lingered a bit longer until, business-like, she faced the two men. "So, what's this about?"

"Sorry?" Rory started, not sure whether he should be worried.

"Well, I don't remember you from either set of memories I have," Martha clarified, "but you're here with Mickey. So what's going on?" She turned to her sort-of husband at that point, and Mickey shifted on his feet a bit.

"It's just- well- we—Rose, Amy, and Rory—"

"Hi," Rory interjected as an introduction, and Martha smiled indulgently and nodded in greeting.

"We sort of remember this other-life. The one you were talking about. That's how I knew to come find you, Martha," Mickey explained. "And maybe you're right- maybe something is going on, because—"

"Something is going on," Martha agreed, and then shook her head. "But it's up _there_."

"What do you mean?" Rory questioned.

"The only reason they let me go- the only reason they dropped me back here, was because I found something," Martha told them, and Rory leaned in with interest. "The Shadow Proclamation is hiding something, they've got this- this—it's hard to describe—a box. They've got this box and I think something's inside it."

"A box?" Rory could practically hear the disappointment in Mickey's tone.

"If you could see how heavily it's guarded, you wouldn't think it was just a box," Martha argued, and for some strange, inexplicable reason, Rory found himself believing her. "Something is in there, something they don't want getting out."

_This box is the ultimate prison._

"Or someone," he murmured, Martha and Mickey regarding him with surprised, but contemplative looks.

Mickey swallowed. "We should regroup, tell Rose and Amy."

"Rose and who?"

"Amy's my fiancé. Uh, sort of," Rory hastened to explain as they began walking further into the center of the city, making their way to the citadel. "So, if they're guarding something in a giant box, why did you think it was a good idea to try and see what's inside?"

"Not like I had much else to do," Martha replied, and then grinned, "Plus it seemed like fun." Rory just shook his head; it seemed Martha Jones was quite like Amy—or better yet, Mels. This would be an interesting team.

But the sudden crackle of electricity and a puff of smoke in front of them only served to make it more interesting.

"Well," the man's shoulders slumped in disappointment, "this isn't a bar."

OoO

"So, remind me again why we're dressed like a couple of custodians?" Amy asked with slight irritation as they shuffled along in the mob-like line headed for the citadel. Rose shrugged.

"Dunno…it just seemed like a good idea. Best way to sneak around unnoticed, right?" Amy had to give the other woman that point. If she did have any protest, at any rate, she was rendered incapable of voicing them as soon as they passed out of the slums.

The difference between citadel and slum was remarkable and instantaneous. Everything was taller, cleaner…clinical. This was the height of civilization on Earth, and yet staring up and around at the stark, grey roads and skyscrapers climbing into the air made her sad in a way. London couldn't be meant to be this, could it?

"This way," Rose murmured in her ear, tugging her around to the side of a building and leading them through a service door. They were in the back corridors of the museum. "Well, we're going to need cleaning supplies or something so it looks like we're working."

"Well, they'd be in here, yeah?" Amy pointed out with a door labeled _Supply_. Rose smiled.

"Best place to look, anyway." They entered and began going up and down rows looking for suitable supplies. When Amy had found a bucket and mop, she straightened back up.

"Right, got enough to blend in, so let's go. Rose?" She looked around, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen. "Rose? Come on, we need to go check it out, no point hanging around all day." She was getting impatient and knew it, but honestly where was the other girl? "I'm going to leave," she half-threatened, going to stand by the door and waiting for a full minute. When no reply came once again she gave a huff of annoyance. "Suit yourself, then," she grumbled and walked out. She could do this- at any rate, it had been her dream, so the only one who really needed to investigate was Amy.

Pausing to re-tuck her shorter-than-it-should-be hair under the cap she wore, Amy started off down to corridor, and pushed open a set of doors at the end of the hall to emerge into the museum proper.

It was somewhat staggering, being confronted suddenly with every type of patron imaginable. They strolled down the halls as they pleased, in groups or alone, and no one seemed to find it bizarre aside from her. Some looked nearly humanoid, except they were an unnatural color, while others had tentacles or two heads. Amy had to blink and take a step back as what she could only describe as a half-human, half-fish passed her, wearing the equivalent of an oxygen mask with water over his face.

Realizing she was starting to attract some strange stares for standing so still for too long, Amy hastened to find the exhibit she was looking for. It was difficult, as all the signs were in some sort of strange script she could not even hope to understand. At last she stumbled upon it by mere chance, a banner hanging by the open archway depicting a view of Earth from space.

Not very many creatures were inside, and she could hardly blame them—Earth art was dreadful. It was all footprints in dirt or rudimentary carvings into rock. She couldn't see the point in half of it.

_I love museums._

She had half a mind to tell him to shut up, but realized last minute that muttering aloud to the voice in her head would only prove the other's point about her being just a slight bit more mad than the rest of them. Instead, Amy shook her head a little to clear it—which allowed her to catch something in the corner of her eye.

It was a painting- the closest thing to a painting in the whole exhibit. Crude, and not very realistic, but beautiful in its own strange way.

A black square, perhaps done in charcoal since she doubted Earth artist had access to paint in this world. It was surrounded by what were likely once fiery red swirls, but had since faded to more of a reddish-brown.

"It's captivating, isn't it?" Amy jumped at the voice, not noticing she had drawn right up to the painting, and whirled about to see who had spoken. It was a woman, dressed similarly as cleaning staff, but older. Age lines were crossing her face, perhaps prematurely etched in from stress, and her hair was a brown that was starting to change to gray just at the routes. Yet there was a brightness in her eyes, the kind that Amy had begun to privately associate with those who knew the other-life.

"Uh, yeah, sort of," she managed, glancing back at it once more.

_Does it have a title?_

Good a question as any. "What's it called?"

The woman's lips quirked. "_The Fairytale Girl's Favorite_".

OoO

Rose was digging through some boxes when she heard it. Something not quite there, but all around, and it was…singing. It sort of song, that seemed to have no melody or rhythm, but rose and swelled and dimmed in a never ending cycle, like nothing she'd ever heard before.

Like it came from the other end of a tunnel, she thought she heard someone—Amy—calling out to her, but the song was pounding in her ears, and Rose found herself instead walking further back into the room. She stopped in front of a closet door, where the sound seemed to emanate from. Slowly, Rose turned the knob and pulled the door open.

The song exploded into a forte inside her head, causing her to close her eyes at the force of it. Gradually, it died down, allowing her to blink them open slightly. And then she saw it.

A box, tall, and so, so very blue. It proclaimed itself as a Police Public Call Box, which hardly meant a thing to her. She reached a hand out, not quite touching the wood.

"What…?"

OoO

"Fairytale…" Amy murmured.

The other woman chuckled a little at the blank look on Amy's face. "It hardly seems appropriate, I know. I've wondered about that myself."

_Amelia Pond…like a name from a fairytale._

_Your favorite story._

Pandora's Box…Pandor—Pandorica! Amy found herself backing away, feeling a sense of wonder and dread at the strange words. She needed to find- needed to find—

"I should be…going, yeah," she excused, and the other woman's smile turned to slight frown.

"Yes, I don't think you quite belong here. I've worked at the museum for years, and I've never seen you before." She winced at her slightly stern look.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Just me and my friend—" The older woman looked around sharply.

"Your friend. Where did you leave her?"

"Uh- supplies, I think." Maybe she should have waited for Rose. Amy was getting a bad feeling at the panicked look on the other woman's face.

"You shouldn't have left her alone in there, it's—I can't explain, but _it's_ in there."

"What? The Pan—I mean, the thing in the painting?" Amy hastened to clarify, but the brunette was already shaking her head. "Ok, I'll just- go and get her then. Uh, thank you, um—"

"Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane Smith," the woman told her, but Amy was already sprinting from the room and down the corridor and didn't reply.

"Rose? Rose!" She called upon bursting into the supply room, and running straight to the back of the room when she didn't see her new friend immediately. She drew up short quite suddenly. "_What_?"

"I know," Rose murmured, and neither said a thing for a full minute.

A box. A blue box. But _this_ box- this _exact_ box—

_Oh, that box. Amy, you'll dream about that box._

"It really is the bluest blue," she murmured.

Rose managed to tear her gaze from the sight before them. "Amy, you're crying."

With a jolt of surprise, she reached up and brushed her cheek with a finger, coming away with the salty wetness of tears.

"And so I am. What are you doing?" She'd looked up to see Rose reaching out for a door handle.

"Well, not much point just staring at it, is there?" There were so many reasons they shouldn't be doing this. But the blonde grinned as the redhead reached for it as well, and Amy couldn't help but smile back as they pushed it open—despite the sign on the front clearly stating they were supposed to pull.

The smile dropped from her face in shock.

"It's bigger on the inside," they both breathed in amazement.

The impossibly huge interior had white walls, pillars shaped like coral around the outer edge of the room, and a second level like a platform with a floor of glass. The platform contained the oddest assortment of knick knacks, gadgets, buttons, switches, and levers possible, the whole place glowing with blue lighting. A wooden chair sat to the side near the controls.

But if all this wasn't enough to astonish her, the person sitting _in_ the chair certainly did.

OoO

She was huddled in a room- a cave- a cage—she didn't know! Images swirled and danced and collided in her head. Everything spanned out then tangled together- so many choices. And none of them were right.

But none of that mattered because her mother was picking her up from the earthen floor of the cave, holding her tight as her father stood over them both—but wait!

Her parents had left the tunnels.

So they were huddled together in a shack in an alley- was that it?

No, no, no! She didn't know! It was too much, too much for her to sort out where she was—

Who was she?

She couldn't remember. She thought- but no, she couldn't remember.

And that was okay, because her parents remembered for her.

With a jerk, her eyes snapped open, an arm coming to shield herself from the blue overhead lights. Her hand…

"What?" She breathed, her voice sounding familiar but weird to her ears as she studied it. This- this wasn't right! Was it?

But it couldn't be, not without him.

And then her head shot up as she swept her gaze back and forth over the console. A mad, mad mess of weres and will bes and shouldn't be togethers—and no him.

Her breath was coming a sharp, frantic gasps now, fear settling in and it was already much too difficult to think—

A hum, emanating from the ship itself washed over her, and she found herself able to relax, leaning back in the chair she occupied. Not very comfy. She didn't like this one, no wonder he'd upgraded—

"It's bigger on the inside," two voices said in unison, and she twisted in the seat to stare at the newcomers. One, a blonde girl she did not recognize, the other…

"_Mels_?"

"Amy," Mels replied. Oh dear. Life of a time traveler, such hard work.

**Aaand stopping there. Amy and Rose have found the TARDIS—and Mels! Uh-oh. And I'm pretty sure you can guess who Martha, Mickey, and Rory have just run into—and maybe what Martha found the Shadow Proclamation was hiding. If you were confused about the TARDIS interior, basically I looked up all the different versions and tried to combine them as best I could. I'm pretty sure it would look like a mess, though. Hopefully it'll be a quicker update next time guys, but thanks for reading and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**So, let me apologize for the inordinate amount of cliffhangers from last chapter. But I should also thank you for the continued reviews, favorites, and alerts this story has been getting! It means so much, guys. So, on with the chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Six**

"Amy." Mels was out of the chair, down the steps, and pulling her into a hug before she could even think, but though she was thrilled to see her old friend from Leadworth, there were too many things wrong with this picture.

"What- what are you _doing_ here, Mels?" She felt her friend tense and wished she could read Mels' expression, but by the time the other had pulled away her features had morphed into that familiar rebellious smirk.

"Well, got tired of hanging around the slums, so I figured I'd poke around a bit. Didn't imagine I'd find the T- uh, this big blue box just like your stories."

"My stories?" She wasn't sure she quite knew what the other woman was talking about, but still…it sounded almost familiar. Her stories about…

Mels had winced at the question. "You don't remember? Forget it, then, it's—"

"So you two know each other, then?" Rose finally interrupted, a hand on her hip as she watched the conversation taking place before her. Amy jumped, with the sudden unexpected appearance of Mels, she'd nearly forgotten the other girl.

"Er, yeah. Rose, this is Mels, we were friends back home in the other-life," she quickly introduced. Mels' eyebrows had shot up at the blonde's name.

"You're Rose?"

"Yeah, I'm Rose Tyler." The two shook hands, but Amy couldn't help but notice her friend seemed to be appraising the other.

"Uh-huh," the girl muttered under her breath before her face softened into a smile. "Glad I got to meet you," she spoke earnestly, something very rare for the juvenile and adult delinquent.

"Well, thanks," Rose smiled, but looked about as thrown as Amy felt. "Nice meeting you."

"So, since Amy remembers me, I take it you two see just how messed up everything is?" She wasn't used to her friend taking charge like this in such a calm, level-headed manner, and Amy found herself glancing at Rose for support.

"Yeah, we're sort of calling it the 'other-life'."

Mels smirked, and Amy felt like her friend was both patronizing her and amused by her at the same time. "Cute."

"Not much else to call it," Amy retorted irritably.

"Anyway," Rose said loudly, likely to cut off the bickering. "Amy had a dream that said the museum would be a good place to look for answers, so we snuck in. The thing I don't get is, you show up here the same day. Why? Why'd you come here? How come you went in here?"

The dark-skinned woman looked at her seriously. "Same as you, I expect." Then she turned her face back toward the weird, jumbled control panel. "I heard her singing."

"Singing?" Amy repeated bewilderedly.

"_Her_?" Rose seemed more concerned with the pronoun.

Mels rolled her eyes. "Yes, her. She's obviously some kind of machine or vessel, and if she's singing, she's alive."

"I don't hear any singing," Amy pointed out, but Rose was slowly shaking her head.

"No, it- she was, Amy. That's why I didn't go with you…I heard the singing. But it's stopped now. How come?" Rose, like Amy, seemed to be looking to Mels for answers. She didn't know why, but the other girl seemed to know more than them.

"She was probably trying to get our attention, and it worked, so she doesn't need to keep it up," Mels replied, and then walked up the stairs to the upper platform. Her hand reached out to a center column that slowly, haltingly pulsed up and down. "And I think she's sad."

"Ok…you sure you're feeling alright? Mels?" Amy asked uncertainly. Her friend wasn't the most normal person in the world, but she wasn't usually this…mad sounding. Mels gave her a smile, but Amy wasn't convinced; it was the smile her friend wore whenever she'd been caught doing something wrong.

"Course I'm fine. Anyway, did you find what you were looking for? In the museum?"

She didn't want to be distracted, but, "Right. Rose, there was this painting, a message, about this thing—the Pandorica."

"The Pandorica?" Rose repeated. "What's a Pandorica?"

"A box, a cage, a prison," Mels blurted in a strained sort of voice, like the words had been ripped out of her. Amy whirled about to see her friend breathing raggedly, her hands tightly gripping the console of the strange box they were in.

"Mels?"

"I'm fine, Amy," she gasped.

"What's important about a prison?" Rose questioned, and while Amy had no answers, Mels replied once more in the same odd manner.

"It was built to contain the most feared thing in all the universe."

"Mels, stop it," Amy said worriedly, guiding her friend back to the wooden chair.

"Is that you talking? Are those your words?" She had to agree Rose's questions were good ones. After all, hadn't she been talking complete nonsense only yesterday? Just the voice in her head…but it hadn't hurt her like this seemed to be doing to Mels.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," the other girl chuckled weakly.

"Ok, so we're supposed to go find a big box that's got the most terrible thing in the universe in it," Amy summarized quickly.

"How do you even lock up something that powerful?"

"A good wizard?" She suggested childishly.

"I hate good wizards in fairytales…always turn out to be him." Her friend was now studying her hands intently, turning them over as if checking for any sort of blemishes or other oddities, only making Amy more concerned.

"Him?" Rose had seized on the last word. "Him—that's the voice, isn't it? You're hearing it too?"

"A voice?" Mels asked with a bemused look on her face. Then her eyes widened. "Oh…words," she whispered in realization. "That's all he is, now…he just can't give in." She looked back up at them. "Yes, I'm hearing a voice."

Amy and Rose shared a look, not quite believing her. But there wasn't time for further interrogation, as suddenly an alarm blared.

"What's that?" Rose cried.

"It's coming from outside," Amy said, "Maybe they realized we snuck in."

"What should we do, then?" Neither wanted to think about what would happen to them if they were caught.

"The doors, shut the doors," Mels ordered. "They won't get in."

Rose ran to do so even as she shouted in protest over the noise, "They're wood!"

"Just do it!" The other woman massaged her temples a moment and Amy knelt by the chair.

"What now? Mels, what do we do?"

"Nothing, there's nowhere to run, Amy," her friend stated in a voice void of any hope.

"We could have tried to sneak back out," Rose told them even as she returned from shutting the doors. The alarm had quieted, like the wood could simply block the sound. "Now our only option is to wait it out. How long is that going to take?"

But Mels didn't have to answer, because someone knocked on the door.

OoO

Rory blinked. But Martha and Mickey laughed.

"Jack!" Martha called in greeting, and the tall, brown-haired man turned in their direction.

"Someone who knows me. For good reason I hope?" The man gave a charming smile, which faltered a little under the Smith-and-Jones combined frowns. "Well, well, well, Martha Jones and Mickey Smith. Tell me there really is something in my drink this time."

"Afraid not," Martha informed him.

"Sorry, is this someone else you two know?" Rory finally asked. Jack looked him up and down, and then stepped forward with a confident smirk.

"Captain Jack Harkness, _very_ pleased to meet you." Rory wasn't sure if it was normal to feel so uncomfortable about a greeting, but judging by how Martha and Mickey were rolling their eyes in fond exasperation, this was how the man greeted everyone.

"Rory Williams," he simply said, then looked back to his newly acquired friends.

"Right, well, Jack's a friend from the other-life," Mickey explained. "And he's a time-traveler."

"A time-traveler?" Rory exclaimed, part in disbelief and part in excitement. Because that felt important, that felt very important.

"Yep," the Captain grinned, then lifted his wrist to display a strange bulky contraption strapped to it. "I use this thing. It was definitely more compact before, though, in that—what did you call it?"

"Other-life," Martha answered, but her voice sounded distant to Rory's ears.

_Vortex manipulator. Cheap and nasty time travel._

"Hang on," Rory said. "I've seen one of those before," he pointed to the little device and Jack raised an eyebrow in interest. "It was smaller like you said…but I don't know you."

"Probably ran in to another Time Agent at some point in your other-life, not that big a deal," the American dismissed.

"But I don't think that was it," he muttered, confused. He'd seen a vortex manipulator before. But whose was it?

"But Jack, if you've got a vortex manipulator, does that mean things are better in your time? For humans?" Martha asked this as the group began walking again toward the citadel.

"Wish I could say it was. Got this off the black market—what's left of it."

"How do you mean?" Mickey questioned.

"In the future, Mickey Mouse, it's the end of everything, of time itself. The Final Sanction, the Time Lords' way of beating the daleks at their own game," Jack gave a sardonic snort. "Naturally, creatures of all kinds are trying desperately to escape it by vanishing off into the past. Either with these, or, for the risk taker," he swallowed as if still trying to stomach what he was about to tell them. "You can pay to get put in a room with a Weeping Angel."

Martha gasped in horror. "It's good you escaped, who knows how much power they might have got out of you. Do you think the stuff we remember would count?"

"Didn't want to find out," Jack admitted. "Plus, I missed having this. So, mind filling me in on why we've moved from a ghetto to actual civilization?" He gestured around the spotless street of the citadel they were now walking along with the largest assortment of beings Rory had ever seen.

"We're meeting up with Rose and Rory's fiancé," Martha explained. "They wanted to go check something at the museum.

"A fiancé, huh?" Jack remarked. "Well, you can't win them all."

"Right, well, Amy's probably waiting. She only wanted to look at the Human Art exhibit," Rory said, steadfastly ignoring the Captain's comments.

"Captain, Martha, Mickey!" A voice hissed, and they all turned and peered into a less populated side-street. An older woman with brown hair was motioning frankly at them.

"Hey, that's Sarah Jane Smith," Mickey said, a grin spreading on his face, and Rory tagged along feeling quite out of the loop as the other three hurried to meet her.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise—" Jack started, but Sarah Jane seemed to be all business as she spoke over him.

"No time, Captain. But your fiancé, Amy," she turned to Rory, who was rather shocked that she seemed interested in him of all people, "Is she the girl with red hair?"

"Yeah, that's her. Why? Has something happened? Is she ok?" He nearly demanded.

"No, no, she's fine. But this—you'll need this." Carefully, the woman pulled a rolled up sort of material, almost like a canvas, out of the bag she'd been carrying. "I don't think she realized, but there's a guide, it tells you where to go."

"You got that from the museum?" Martha asked, and Sarah Jane nodded. "But, why'd they let you take it?"

The older woman bit her lip worriedly at the question, and Rory suddenly registered how her eyes kept darting about agitatedly. As though on the lookout for something.

"Oh my God, you stole it!" Mickey exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

"I had to," she nearly cried. "They check the tapes every half-hour, and they'll realize she and Rose aren't supposed to be there. If I hadn't caused a diversion they'd be tracking them down and find—it."

"So instead they're tracking you down? Sarah Jane, how is that better?" Jack inquired, a serious frown marring his features.

"I'm not important, I don't matter, but you all need to get to Amy and Rose, because they know what you need to do now, and you have to get them there." She pressed the rolled up artwork into Rory's hands and pushed him away firmly, gesturing to the rest to do the same. "Now hurry, they'll be here any minute!"

"Where are Amy and Rose?" The American asked as he began pressing button's on his vortex manipulator.

"The supply room of the National Museum," she said quickly, "now please go!"

"Can't you come with us?" Martha asked desperately.

"They've got a lock on her by now," Jack informed them regretfully as they all kept backing up and away, but Rory could see the guilt starting to break through on the other man's face. "Everybody place your hands here."

They'd followed him into a little alcove between two buildings but before Jack could press another button, they heard the sound of heavy, marching boots. The whole group froze.

"You are Sarah Jane Smith?" A low, gravelly voice interrogated, and Rory couldn't help poking his head out to see a pair of walking rhinos dressed in leather standing before the woman. She calmly raised her hands over her head in the classic 'surrender' position, and yet he doubted it was going to make a difference.

"I am," she said, and he felt nothing but admiration for the way her voice did not even waver.

"You are charged with stealing a painting from the Sol 3 National Museum. You plead?"

"Guilty." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Not as though to block everything out, but as though she'd accepted what was coming.

The rhino—Judoon—didn't even pause. "Sentence: Execution."

"No!" Martha gasped quietly, but Rory felt Jack's hand over all of theirs tighten.

"Sorry," he muttered, as much to Sarah Jane as to them, and hit the final button. They vanished before the ray from the Judoon's gun had even hit. But Rory still felt sick all the same.

That woman…Sarah Jane Smith…he didn't even know her. He'd met her minutes ago, and now she was—this was wrong. This was so, so wrong. This, more than anything, made him realize: they needed help. They needed- they needed—who? She'd laid down her life so they could continue on this mad quest, so why couldn't he come up with a single bloody name?

No one spoke for a long moment as they all had broken apart upon arrival and stood around, gasping, while the museum alarm just kept blasting away. "So, this the supply room, then?" Mickey finally said quietly, and they all seemed to come to a silent decision not to speak of what had just transpired.

"Yeah," Jack responded, "and—oh, wow!" He broke off, staring at something behind the rest of them in amazement. Naturally, they all turned to look.

"Oh my God," Martha breathed.

"A box. A blue box. A big blue box!" Mickey said in wonder. Rory stared at it, taking it all in. The signs and labels, the St. John Ambulance sticker, the absolute blueness of it all. If the sight of anything could make him feel better, this was it.

"I have no idea what that is," he admitted freely, "and it's weird…but I think this is where we're going to find Amy and Rose."

"One way to find out, right?" Jack asked rhetorically, and then reached out and knocked. "Let's see if anybody's home."

**Ok, stopping there. I'm sorry? Please don't kill me. Thanks for reading, and please review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry, but I had to do it. That being said, now you can read on as our little team of companions journeys to ensure Sarah Jane didn't die in vain. Thanks for the reviews, even if you were upset, and on with the chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Seven**

"Amy! Amy, are you in there? It's me, Rory!" Amy and Rose visibly relaxed at the familiar voice, and she hurried to get the door back open.

"Careful, Amy," Mels warned, starting to rise from the chair, but the door was already open.

"Thanks, little lady," a tall man with an American accent pushed past her into the room, and she turned an accusing glare on her fiancé.

"Sorry, but we really don't have much time," he explained quietly. "And Mickey and Martha know him, he's—"

"Jack!" Rose cried in delight, allowing the man to lift her in a hug.

"Rose Tyler! Was wondering where you'd got to," the man called Jack said with a grin.

"Ok, so what now?" Mickey asked as he and a woman who could only be Martha Jones shut and relocked the doors, once more quieting the alarm. "We haven't really got much time and—"

"Where are we?" Martha finished for him. It was a fair question, as not even Amy knew, and she'd been standing inside it for a good fifteen minutes now.

"I don't believe it…" Jack said, his head turning this way and that as he removed Roses' arms.

"What is it?" The blonde asked.

"I didn't recognize it from the outside and they never looked like this in the intelligence photos—"

"What photos?" Amy couldn't keep from asking.

"Uh, basically, he's from a terrible future where everyone found out the world was about to end and so they all jumped back into the past," Rory summed up.

"He's a _time traveler_?" She said in disbelief. Jack grinned.

"Jack Harkness from the fifty-first century. And this," he gestured around the strange room, "is a TARDIS."

TARDIS. That word…she couldn't even begin to describe the feelings it evoked from her. She felt absolutely awed, enthralled, and completely safe all at once. Those doors were just wood, true, but within them she felt at home for the first time since waking up in that cave.

"What is a TARDIS?" Mickey finally broke the silence, looking about the place with curiosity. Jack opened his mouth to reply, but—

"A Time Lord's transport. Abandoned, or the owner would've come in here to see what all the commotion was ages ago," Mels answered as she walked down the steps. Her friend faked a look of surprise and glanced the American's way. "Oh, sorry. Stole your thunder? Bless," she patted his cheek as she passed him, and he stepped back and rubbed at it. "You can get the next one, Captain."

He recovered pretty well all things considered. "Thanks, miss—?"

"Mels," her friend threw a wink over her shoulder at him. "You can call me Mels."

"Alright, Mels, how do you know so much about time travel?" Amy had to agree with his line of questioning. It felt off that Mels was here, and the way she had been saying those things…it was like trying to reconcile two different ideas. Like the outside- the picture –wasn't matching up with the inside.

"I'm a bit clever," her friend smirked, "And I had a great teacher."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem the scholarly type."

Mels placed a hand on her hip as she turned ever-so-slightly to face him. "You'd be surprised. Course I got top marks in the practical."

Even Amy had the decency to blush, but Jack's grin only got wider as he stepped forward. "I'll bet you did."

"Careful, Captain," Mels warned though the smirk didn't leave her face.

"Anyway, Jack," Rose finally broke in. "Now that we're all here, what are we going to do?"

"You should be asking Rory," Mels answered first again, "Cause he's the one holding something."

Amy turned sharply to look at him and realized her fiancé was in fact carrying something rolled up. "Hang on, that looks like—"

"It is," he said, unraveling it to reveal _The Fairytale Girl's Favorite_. "It's the painting you saw in the museum. This woman, uh—"

"Sarah Jane," Mickey supplied, his eyes downcast.

"Right," Rory nodded gratefully at the other man. "She said we'd need it. It had a- a guide or something."

"The Judoon, they just—killed her," Martha said suddenly, and Amy couldn't stop the gasp that escaped. "In the other life…that didn't just happen. We- we at least could _try_ to defend ourselves, but this…" the woman trailed off shaking her head. "Funny thing is, the reason they took me away in the first place, the plasmavore, I remember it happening two different ways. And it wasn't the police or the army that stopped it. I know someone did, but—"

"The voice," Mels said softly. "That voice you're hearing in your head. That's him, that's the one who stopped all this from happening."

"Then why did he leave?" Rose was standing off by herself, leaning against one of the columns and looking very lost. "Where did he go, where is he now?" She swallowed once, and it was quite obvious that tears were about to spill over.

"Rose." Jack placed a hand on her shoulder, but a sob still tore itself from the blonde's throat.

"He's left us, Jack! He's left me! Why- why can't I remember him? I can't even remember his face!"

Amy looked away, feeling uncomfortable with the emotional display, and it was because of this that she saw it. Writing in the painting. "Are those numbers?"

Rory held it up flat against a wall so they could all see.

"Yeah! Numbers and symbols," Mickey agreed.

"Some kind of code, but what?" Martha muttered.

"Coordinates!" Jack announced with glee, already tapping away at his vortex manipulator. Amy felt the stirrings of some kind of memory—not words this time. Instead, she glanced up at the mismatched control panel, almost as if expecting someone to be there pulling levers and throwing switches in a mad dance. Mels snorted.

"You're going to take all of us across the universe with a space hopper?" At his disgruntled look, she held up a hand in defense. "I'm not saying vortex manipulators don't have their advantages, but they're not built for seven people."

"Then how do we get there?" Mickey inquired, and the girl just gave him a look.

"We've already established this is a mode of transport."

"Yes, for Time Lords," Martha laughed in disbelief. "How are we supposed to fly this thing?"

"Can't be much different from stealing a car," Mels shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Amy and Rory looked at each other in despair. Not this again.

"Well, it looks like the coordinates are entered here…" Jack mused, stepping up to an old-fashioned typewriter set into the console.

"I think this dial controls all the time stuff," Rose offered, having calmed down enough to blink back her tears, and pointed out a strange little dial that looked like part of a children's toy. "And- and this pump thing, I'll bet it boosts the engines or something."

Mickey stepped forward next. "Looks like this button calibrates it."

"And this screen's got to be a way of looking outside so we can see where we're going," Martha suggested, pulling it over toward the Captain and switching it on. "And I think this needs to be kept level."

"I'll get the thermo couplings," Rory said, depositing the painting in the chair and heading underneath the console. But what could she do?

"Don't forget the stabilizers," Mels reminded.

"You mean the blue boringers?" Amy couldn't help but ask with a teasing grin. Her friend rolled her eyes in a sort of fond exasperation, an expression that seemed unnatural to Mels' face. And yet she had felt that the other would understand the joke, at least as much as she did.

Mels shook her head again to clear it and went to stand next to Jack, the two beginning to press buttons and pull switches in a very methodic way. It was quite dull, really.

"But how does it start?" Jack asked aloud in frustration. "I mean, how does it just sort of—go?" If Mels' strange abundant knowledge had run out, she wasn't sure, but the other woman didn't do anything else. The group looked around, searching each other's faces for some kind of clue. Rory came back up and stood by her, looking just as lost as the rest of them.

"Well- there's the zigzag plotter…" she supplied rather lamely. "But I'm pretty sure that's for when it's parked. Oh, I don't know! He'd just pull some lever and it'd make that noise—"

"It's not supposed—" Mels started, but Amy suddenly gasped, a huge smile slowly stealing across her features.

"What? Did you remember something?" Rose asked, poking her head around the center column to see. Amy didn't answer, she just walked up to the console, her hand hovering over a lever.

"Okay, kids…the wibbly lever!" With a flourish she felt that voice in her head just might be proud of, Amy Pond pulled the lever and grinned with delight as the center column pulsed up and down, the whole ship began to shake and rattle, and an achingly familiar _vroop vroop_ filled the air.

"Ohh, who left the brakes on?" Mels complained.

"He loves that noise," Amy couldn't help but defend it. She loved it, too. She nearly didn't catch her friend's soft smile. But she heard her muttered words.

"Yes, he does."

"Somebody hold that down!" Jack ordered, pointing to a switch just out of his reach.

"Got it!" Rory replied, running around the console to do so.

"That button needs pressed!" Mels called.

"On it," she said, happy to have something to do as well.

"Everyone," Jack said, and when they were all looking at him he grinned, "we've just left Earth's atmosphere. Welcome to space."

A collective cheer was raised around the room.

"We're doing it!" Martha and Rose exclaimed, clasping their free hands together and jumping up and down.

"Space! Outer space!" Mickey kept saying in wonder.

Amy and Rory stared at each other across the console, smiles stretched across their faces from ear to ear. They had done this. They'd journeyed all the way from the caves of Lower Leadworth to the citadel of London, and now they were on their way to finding what awaited them in the Pandorica. They'd done it together.

"Look at you all…he'd be so proud." She heard it come from Mels' direction, but it was such a not-Mels thing to say, for an instant, Amy imagined her friend hadn't said it at all…someone else did. But her exuberance at their success kept her from dwelling on it.

After minimal debate, the brakes were taken off upon materialization so as not to attract much attention. Because they had made it, but now things were really getting dangerous.

"We couldn't land in exactly the same place as this box-thing," Jack explained, "There's all kinds of anti-teleportation fields set up around the room. Martha, we're going to need you to draw a map."

"Right," the woman nodded, and she and Mickey went in search of the necessary supplies.

"We should have some kind of plan," Rory suggested, "Maybe a formation to move in, so we stay organized."

"Sure, soldier," Jack grinned at him, and Rory, the Captain, and Mels began discussing tactics. Not having much else to do, Amy walked around the console to where Rose was still positioned. The other girl's euphoria had died down some now that they were here, and she had that sad frown on her face again.

"Hey," Amy said quietly, and Rose looked up at her. "You ok?"

"Yeah, course," the blonde was quick to reassure, "I'm fine."

"You weren't fine earlier," she couldn't help but point out gently. "None of us can remember what he looks like, either. So what's really bothering you?" She waited for the other to speak, and caught some of a rather heated debate between the three strategists of the group.

"You can't take point by yourself, Captain, it's too dangerous!" Mels lectured.

Rory gave their friend an incredulous look. "Since when did you worry about danger?"

She thought their friend might rip her black locks out in frustration, the glare she sent Rory's way was so intense. "It doesn't matter, Rory! Point is, he's thinking of himself as a human shield—but you're not!" The last part was directed at the American.

Jack blinked as a look of realization came to his face. "I- I'm not. I'm not immortal…I can die?"

"Yeah, and that's sort of bad," Rory said uncertainly at the look of wonder on the Captain's face.

The other man shook his head slowly. "Funny thing is, Rory, in the other-life…for a long time I wished I could. Worried about it all the time, when it all was finally going to end. But now," he gave a bitter chuckle, "it'd be really useful to have that back. Figures." Jack sighed and seemed to come out of his reverie. "Well, let's get this all figured out so that things are back to normal around here…well, I say normal."

"That's it, really," Rose suddenly spoke softly.

"What's it?" Amy asked.

"When things go back to normal. Thing is, I knew Mickey, Martha, and Jack—even Sarah Jane's name was familiar. But I didn't know you or Rory or Mels. And you didn't know us."

"I guess…although—"

"What?" The other woman leaned forward in interest, and Amy paused to collect her thoughts and figure out what she was trying to say.

"Well, when I saw you from that alleyway, I didn't know you. I didn't think, 'Oh, there's Rose Tyler.' But, it was like- like I _recognized_ you."

"Recognized me?" Rose repeated.

"Yeah, like I'd seen you before. In a photo or something. What's the matter?" For Rose was shaking her head with a rueful smile on her face.

"That's what I was afraid of. This voice, we're all hearing it—we all know him from the other life. But- I think you knew him last. You and Rory, and Mels."

Amy blinked. "I hadn't thought about it, but yeah, that makes sense."

"So where am I, then?" She had nothing to say that could provide encouragement or comfort, so Amy stayed silent. Martha brought the map over to Jack, and the blonde wiped at her watering eyes a bit as she and Amy went to join the group.

"Ok, so we're not far," Jack said, "So Mels and I will take point, Amy, Martha, and Rose are in the middle, with Rory and Mickey bringing up the rear."

"Isn't that a bit uneven?" Martha pointed out with a raised eyebrow, and Amy crossed hers arms, giving Rory a look that clearly conveyed she was not happy with him.

"Martha, you have medical training, right?" Mels asked, and when the woman nodded, she continued. "Well, that makes you a valuable asset. Amy's the one who's gotten us here, so she needs to be protected, and since we have already two on each side, that leaves Rose with you both in the middle." It was sound reasoning, and so they grudgingly agreed.

"It's really just a short walk down that corridor, a left, and then the fourth door on the right," Martha told them, tracing the path she'd drawn with her finger. "They don't have stationed guards; the Judoon just patrol the halls."

"Let's get started, then," Mickey suggested, and so Amy found herself following Jack, Mels, and Martha to the door. As the Captain inched it open and peered out, she couldn't help turning back to look at Rory's tense face.

"Be careful," she whispered, and he nodded once.

"All clear," Jack murmured under his breath. He and Mels exchanged a glance, nodded, and the two edged out, Martha stepping out after them and Amy close behind. The halls were unremarkable, sterile and brightly lit, but just the sight of that was enough to make the other woman's shoulders tense up. Amy reached out and grabbed Martha's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The woman turned to smile at her gratefully, mouthing the word, "Thanks."

The group walked on tip-toe, softly as they could down the corridor, the Captain and her childhood friend taking quick glances around the corner and then motioning for the others to go ahead. Amy, Martha, and Rose hurried forward into the next hall, but stopped after ten paces and waited for the two leaders to retake their position.

But a quick look back showed that Jack and Mels had taken up places one on either side of the corridor they'd just left, hiding and guns out.

"What are you doing?" Mickey hissed, but the American just tapped his ear. They all listened.

Heavy footfalls, marching steadily toward them.

"They're going to catch up soon, unless we hold them off for you," the Captain spoke quickly and quietly. "Rory, you take up point, Mickey, stay in the back."

Jack easily gave off the air of a soldier preparing for battle. But— "Mels, you can't!" Amy whispered as loud as she dared, and the other girl just raised an eyebrow as if in challenge. "This isn't just for having a laugh or stealing a car, this is serious!" This just wasn't adding up, it was all very wrong—Mels from Leadworth didn't do this. But hadn't somebody else?

"Oh, I know, Amy. Believe me." And her friend turned her attention back to the other corridor. "But I definitely miss my blaster."

"Let's move," Rory finally ordered, coming to the front and pulling her away. The footsteps of the Judoon were very loud now, and Amy looked back to see Jack and Mels jump out into the open, guns firing.

Rory pulled her into a run, and the others were keeping pace. Her fiancé stopped before the door Martha had indicated and kicked it in, rushing inside. Amy made to follow, but a pained cry made her stop and whip her head back to see—

Mels was falling to the ground, her face contorted in agony, and red, red blood was blossoming through her shirt and jacket. Their eyes locked for just a second, before her childhood friend clenched them shut in pain.

"Mels!" She cried, starting forward, but Mickey's strong arms grabbed her shoulders and half-dragged, half-carried her toward the room. "We have to help her!"

"We can't!" Mickey insisted, and now Rose was pulling on her, too.

"No!" Her friend, her best friend aside from Rory in the whole village of Leadworth, she couldn't just leave her. But now Rory himself grabbed her around the waist and carried her fully inside.

_I'm sorry._

"Get off of me!"

_I'm sorry._

"Get out of my head! Sarah Jane, Mels—what is the _point_ of you!" She was crying and screaming at who, she didn't really know. But Rose was right—the voice, why wasn't he here to stop this? Why wasn't he helping them? They needed him—Mels needed him right now!—and he wasn't here. The sound of gunshots had stopped and she didn't know if that was because Jack had won or he was dead.

"I think we're going to find out the point," Martha said, and Amy looked at her questioningly before her eyes fell on what was behind the other woman. The Pandorica, beginning to glow. "It's opening."

**So, really loaded chapter. I realize that Rory and Amy's knowledge of the thermo couplings and the wibbly lever come from a little short filmed after season five, but that scene could really fit in anywhere as there was no specific time given to the mini-episode. So, I'm sort of taking a liberty there by including it. Also, Amy made a reference to a deleted scene from "Flesh and Stone" where she gets to see pictures of previous companions, Rose among them. Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know what you think in a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm glad you guys all really enjoyed the last chapter. Went on a writing binge, got this all done last night, and finished editing this afternoon. This is sort of it, so I hope you enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eight**

The last Judoon went down with a thud, and Jack stood breathing heavily from the exertion for a moment. But he didn't have time to waste, because he needed to check on his fallen comrade.

"Mels?" He knelt by the young woman whose breath was coming quick and shallow. She'd lost so much blood. "If you can, answer me."

Her eyes slowly opened. "Leave me," she hissed through clenched teeth. "More will be coming any minute, you know that—" She stopped when he took her hand.

"I'm staying with you as long as I can. Mickey and Rory can take care of the others. Besides…I have some questions, Mels." Her breath hitched, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her injuries.

"Well, better talk quickly, not much time," she offered a quirk of the lips that was probably meant to be a smile, but it came off looking strained.

"Yes, time. Thing is, Mels, my vortex manipulator isn't just for transport. It works sort of like a scanner, picking up temporal anomalies…and it went haywire for you."

"You need to move—"

"I'm not leaving until I get an answer," he insisted, adding a commanding edge to his voice. She merely coughed out a laugh.

"Yeah, I can see that. But you're about to get your answer, so you need to move back."

"What—" he started, but leapt back in shock as Mels began to glow. She sat up, the pain seemingly forgotten, and got to her feet, a smile beginning to spread over her face.

"Finally," she said, as he slowly backed away. "Not that this body doesn't have its merits, but I'm partial to the next one." She threw a wink his way. "And so is he." Then she tossed her head back in a scream as the light suddenly exploded outward from her hands and face in fire. He'd seen this before, hadn't he? Something like it, but not quite- hadn't been finished—_what?!_

Because the flames died and in Mels' place stood a woman. A more mature, quite attractive looking woman with pale skin and a halo of blonde curls. But the wicked smirk she gave him spoke of the same flirty manner. If he hadn't been so stunned, he might have made some kind of remark, at least a greeting.

_Oh, don't start._ _Stop it._

She didn't even let him get in a hello.

"Jaw off the floor, Captain," the woman quipped. "You can look, but no touch."

"What? Who?" Jack usually prided himself on his eloquence, but at the moment he was reduced to one-worded, incredulous questions.

She raised an eyebrow. "Never seen a regeneration before? Hm, and you call yourself a time agent," she chuckled, shaking her head like a mother would at an errant child, and dug into a pocket of her jacket—her jacket was different! "Now, where did it go? Convenient, this messed up world, didn't even have to stop off at the wardrobe. Aha! Here we are."

The woman removed a rather futuristic gun, swiftly taking aim and firing at the four Judoon that had just rounded the corner. They went down before he could even blink.

"Regeneration? You're a Time Lord!"

"Hush, dear, this is between you and me, understand?" As she was now pointing the still-smoking blaster in his direction, Jack was inclined to nod his agreement. Especially considering he was not immune to blaster shots in this world. "You're to call me River Song, that is my name now."

"What, so new name, new hairdo, and new outfit?" He couldn't help half-teasing.

"This isn't a normal world, and this wasn't a normal regeneration. Let's just say, in this version of reality, I'm not supposed to exist, but Amy remembering me pulled me through, only it got distorted," she explained.

"Hang on, you mean Amy's the one controlling this world? She's behind it?" He asked. Jack wasn't sure what that might mean he'd have to do with the girl.

"No, this is a world in which the man who owns voice you keep hearing in your head doesn't exist. But he's clever, he's using his words to get back. And we should move," River Song added as they heard more footsteps in the distance.

"Is this guy that teacher you were talking about? Cause I wouldn't mind meeting him," Jack couldn't keep from asking. She grinned up at him.

"Spoilers."

"Ok, but he's using his words, and what's that got to do with Amy? She's got a stronger connection or something?"

"Short answer, yes. Long answer, Amy grew up with a crack in the universe in her bedroom wall. All of time and space pouring into her head every night, you see? Her memories are more powerful than the average person. So, Amy remembers me wearing this jacket with my favorite blaster—I regenerate with my jacket and my favorite blaster."

They turned around at the same time and fired at the oncoming troops. How long would it take before they sent the whole army?

"So, if you're from this other-world, be honest; can we really fix this? What's in that box- the Pandorica?" He watched her for any signs of deceit, but her expression looked genuine as she shook her head.

"I don't know…it's not him, he doesn't exist in physical form in this world, just in memories and—"

"Who is 'he' anyway? Because you know. Why don't things just go back to normal then? Is it because someone from this world has to remember?" Whether she registered his questions or not, he couldn't tell, because River Song's mouth had dropped open like she'd had the eureka moment of the century.

"Ohh, of course!" She breathed.

"What? What is it?" They were stopped outside the door Martha had told them to go to, and it had been kicked in. Before he entered, though, Jack wanted to know just what they were dealing with.

"The most dangerous thing to this universe's existence. If he is remembered, this world literally never happened," she clarified, but he still wasn't sure what she was driving at. "Captain, if you've already forgotten something, how do you forget it again?"

"That's a trick question, right? Because you can't." She practically beamed, so he had to be doing something right.

"Exactly. It's impossible to forget something—forget _someone_ you've already forgotten. So you have to remember." She strode into the room without another word, and Jack could do nothing else but follow.

OoO

Amy felt Rory draw close to her as the circles on the sides of the box turned like a complicated locking mechanism and a chink of light appeared right at the corner facing them. The Pandorica was opening.

"What do you think's in there?" Mickey asked the group at large, but no one had any idea and so they all waited in silence as it opened wider and wider and light poured out, causing Amy to shut her eyes against the brightness.

"It is returning through the dark…" A woman's voice? It came from the box, and the words washed over her like they had a kind of energy behind them.

"Something's returning?" Rory puzzled aloud. "What's returning?"

"I am, you dumbo!" The voice exclaimed, sounding suddenly much less mystic and all-powerful, and way more, well, human. And that's who the voice belonged to. A human woman.

"_Donna_?" Martha, Mickey, and Rose all exclaimed at once.

"Oh yes!" The woman answered. She had long, red hair like Amy and had an air about her that she would be unwise to cross. "Now get me out of this bloody thing!" Mickey and Rory rushed forward to help her stand from the metal chair she'd been sitting in, and the woman stumbled out of the box.

"What were you doing in there?" Martha asked in complete bewilderment.

"How should I know? One minute, I'm telling him to back off, cause I'm not letting him get anywhere _near_ my mind, and the next, I'm locked in a box! Now where is he?"

"Who?" Rose asked, as they all felt rather lost at the moment.

"Oh, because you walked, did you?" Donna replied with a voice dripping in sarcasm. "What, pass through the little shop on your way in—I love a little shop—oh, _shut up_!" She clutched at Mickey's shoulder and bent double, taking gulps of air. It reminded Amy of the way Mels had been acting before—oh god, Mels.

"What's wrong?" Martha asked, propping the other woman back up and examining her for injuries.

"I don't know, I thought maybe it was the metacrisis, but it's different. When I woke up in that box, I kept hearing his voice saying things, but now he's getting louder!" Donna gasped.

"Maybe the Pandorica was making it quiet," Rose suggested.

"How long was I in there, anyway, I'm starved," the woman remarked, then tilted her head in curiosity. "Can I have an apple? All I can think about—no, hang on, bananas! Bananas are good! Bananas- protein- nuts- that's too salty!" The words were flying at a thousand miles a minute so that she could barely keep with them. "Would you like a jelly baby? Oh!" Donna grabbed at Mickey for support again. "This is too soon, I'm not ready, I could do so much more!"

"What do we do? How do we help you?" Rory asked desperately.

"An eye for an eye…it was never the way. Just this once, everybody- I'm so sorry—"

"What, please! Let us help you," Amy tried, grabbing the woman's hand. Donna gasped and her eyes shut tight and then opened.

"You- you have to give stuff up," the other redhead said, and Amy was almost certain that those were really her words.

"What do you mean?" She asked. What more could they give up?

"There's tradeoffs to every universe," a voice so unexpected and yet familiar spoke up from behind them, and Amy and Rory both spun around to make sure what they had heard was real.

"River!" Amy exclaimed in shock.

"Hello, Amy. Miss me? Found your Captain here and thought I'd lend a hand," the older woman greeted. "Since that _impossible_ man is being busy not existing at the moment."

"I let her tell the story that way," Jack commented with a grin.

"Jack, who is she?" Rose asked, staring at River at the weapon in her hands with distrust.

"Friend of the neighborhood voice in our heads, Rose," the American told her, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "We don't have much time to argue—"

"But how'd she get here? Are you some sort of time traveler?" The girl inquired of her fellow blonde. "How do you know the voice?" Rose obviously had picked up on the rather familiar way River had referred to the owner of whatever voice they were hearing.

River looked somewhat hesitant to say anything, but her eyes were full of pity. "I'm sorry, Rose…but spoilers." Rose took a step back as though the words had been a shove, biting her lip and looking away as though it was unbearable to even look the other woman in the eye. River's gaze lowered to the floor, accompanied by a heavy sigh.

"Anyway," Jack finally said in the uncomfortable silence, "more Judoon will be on their way. But what was Miss Noble saying about having to sacrifice things?"

"Mickey Smith," Donna looked over at him, "and Martha Jones…become the soldiers again. Rory Williams always doubting when he doesn't even need to. Jack Harkness…the Face of Boe. River Song—" Donna shuddered, and the curly-haired woman merely watched, a solemn expression on her face. "Rose Tyler, in Pete's World, forever. Donna Noble, the most important woman in the universe, all those wonderful things I did…" the woman swallowed around a lump in her throat, "gone."

Martha and Mickey were holding hands, resolute looks on their faces. Rory glanced once at Amy and then nodded. Jack and River walked forward to properly join the group, acknowledging the fates Donna had outlined for them. Rose's eyes were watery, but she said nothing.

"And Amy Pond…it's all up to you. You have to remember." Donna's fingers tightened around hers. "The Girl Who Waited, you have to wait all over again."

"I would wait two thousand years if that would make my life go back to how it should be," she said. "Cause it's not just my life, is it? It's everybody's."

"The whole universe," Donna agreed.

"So what do we do?"

"Just answer a question. Who?"

"Who what?" She asked, somewhat irritated. "Who's the voice? I don't know, none of us know—"

"Yeah, you do. The whole universe does, but you had to come here to really remember. To _hear_ it. Listen," Donna instructed, and so Amy did. She closed her eyes, and listened.

"What is that?" She jumped and opened her eyes.

"In this universe, the Shadow Proclamation- it's located in the Medusa Cascade," River told them. "And the legend goes that in this universe a Time Lord called the Master went mad with a drum beat of four that plagued his mind. No one could explain it. So, here, he built the Archangel Network—satellites boosting the signal—a second out of sync with the rest of reality."

"That voice in your head, in your dreams, exists out of reality," Donna continued. "And that's why you can hear it. The drums. But the drums aren't just a sound. They're a name."

Amy didn't wait for them to tell her. She just closed her eyes and listened again.

_onetwothreefour onetwothreefour onetwothreefour_

No, that wasn't right. Not quite. She needed space.

Without opening her eyes, Amy walked away from them, and closer toward the box.

_pandorica pandorica fairytalegirl ameliapond comealongpond madmanwithbox_

"Amy," River spoke softly, soothingly, so as not to break her concentration, "You have to concentrate on his words. What he told you—"

"When I was seven," she finished in realization. The story about the TARDIS…what had he said?

_bigandlittle oldandbrandnew borrowedandblue bowtiesarecool_

She nearly scoffed aloud at that. Yeah right, Raggedy—

Raggedy Man! Torn, pinstripe trousers, a rumpled blue shirt, a loose tie.

_raggedyman raggedyman raggedyman_

_ To Hell with the Raggedy! _She could practically see his smirk. In fact, in her mind's eye, she could.

_ Hello, I'm the Doctor._

_ doctordoctor doctordoctor doctordoctor_

Her eyes still closed, Amy breathed in deep before saying, in a steady voice that carried around the room, "Doctor."

She looked over her shoulder to see Donna smiling at her. "Doctor."

"Doctor," River said, like one would a dearly beloved's name.

And as Rory, and Martha, and Mickey, and Jack, and Rose all joined in, Amy realized she was repeating it over and over like a mantra. But her attention was soon drawn back to the inside of the Pandorica, which had begun to shine brightly again. And just squinting, she could make out the form of a man coming into existence.

He was old, with white hair and a prominent nose dressed mostly in black—but then some of the lines of his face were fading away and his hair became short and a deep black—it grew back out to more waves with a shade in between the first two, and his face again younger—now the hair was an explosion of brown, bangs hanging down into wild eyes and a neck wrapped in a long, ridiculous scarf—a young face with fair hair, a stick of celery in his lapel—very short curls and a ludicrously colored coat—a hat over his darker hair, his nose again pointed—long, brown waves framed a much younger face, his dress shirt collar up and a cravat attached—his hair all but gone, large ears, and a leather jacket.

And then it stayed like that. The man blinked and looked down at himself.

"No, oh no," his voice was deep and the accent was distinctly northern. "Rose, Mickey Jack, you have to concentrate—this is too early!" He looked over her shoulder at them with pleading eyes. Blue eyes that shifted to brown as brown, wildly styled hair sprouted, complimenting an even younger looking face, and that pinstripe suit she vaguely remembered herself was back with a brown trenchcoat.

"Better, but not quite! Come on," he urged, but nothing happened. "Donna, Jack, Martha, Mickey, Rose, you have to let go, this isn't my face anymore."

"We're trying," Martha called back, "But it's all we know!"

"Oh blimey," he muttered, then his face screwed up in pain a moment. "I can't hang on in this body much longer—I'll get ripped back into the void, forever this time! Understand? You have to let go, you have to move on!"

"But you can't!" Rose suddenly cried, running forward. The only thing that stopped her from running right up to the Pandorica was the brightness of the light still emanating from it. "You can't change now, not when I've finally remembered you! Doctor- I can't go back there! Please!"

"I'm sorry," was all he said, a weariness and pain in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. But you have to, Rose Tyler. You have to move on. You have to _live_. One life is all you get, Rose. Everything has a time and a place. And everything dies."

"But not you. Everything else- we all die around you," she argued stubbornly. "So why can't I stay with you as long as I can?"

He shook his head with a sad smile. "Because that wouldn't be fair to you. You have your Doctor now, in Pete's World, Rose. Go back to him. He can do so much more for you than I ever will. You never liked it when I changed." He cracked a smile, which the blonde tried to return, before she backed up. Amy could see she had tears streaming down her face.

"Go on then, let me see what you've done with yourself," Rose managed a watery smile at last, and he grinned.

"Need a bit of help for that." And this unfamiliar, familiar man locked eyes with her. "The Girl Who Waited and The Last Centurion." Rory and River had come to stand on either side of her, and she felt bolstered by their support. The man's gaze swept over them before stopping on River. "Do you have a title, River Song?"

The woman smiled, and she couldn't tell if it was happy or sad. "Spoilers, Sweetie." Amy tried to ignore the stricken look on Rose's face at the endearment.

"Sweetie?" The man repeated with a raised eyebrow. "With this face? No," he shook his head with a grin.

"Spaceman!" Donna yelled, and he looked at her. "Everything I am—my memories, the DoctorDonna—is going to die." His face fell he seemed to be waiting for judgment. "I just want to say: I forgive you."

He seemed overcome with emotion, and might have burst into tears if another spasm of pain didn't wrack his body.

"Go on, can't have you falling into the void!" Mickey remarked.

"We better see you soon, mister, whatever face you're wearing," Martha added.

The pain seemed to pass as he sat up straight again and looked at them all with a smile that spoke volumes of the pride and admiration he held for each of them. "Right then, Amy Pond—allons-y!"

Amy made a face. "Raggedy Man- no," she simply told him, and he laughed.

"So much for nostalgia, then." He winked. "Gotcha."

The Pandorica suddenly seemed to burst with light, and Amy, Rory, and River stumbled back a few steps from the sheer force of it.

"Good luck, Doc!" Amy heard Jack call over everything.

As the light died down, she finally pulled her hands away from shielding her face to look. Sitting in the Pandorica—tweed, braces, bowtie, and all—was the Doctor. He said one word.

"Geronimo."

The universe went black.

**So, finished. Yay! You all know what happens next, Amy wakes up in her bedroom, gets married, and has to bring back the Doctor to the real universe. And then fun and (really bad) dancing is had by all. Stay tuned for an epilogue! Thanks for reading and please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, time for the epilogue. I'm glad you all have enjoyed the fic so much, and thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! It really inspires me to keep going and thinking up new ideas! But here you go, the epilogue!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Epilogue**

It had been several days, planets, spaceships, and adventures, but Amy and Rory just hadn't been able to find the time. It wasn't completely their fault, seeing as they were a newly-wedded couple at last. Sometimes they were just…busy. And it was the last thing on their minds. But at last, Amy looked at her brand new Mr. Pond and said, "We have to talk to him."

Rory nodded seriously in agreement, and the two made their way to the console room. They didn't immediately see the Doctor, but then she saw his legs poking out from under the console. He was lying back on some sort of sliding board and tinkering with the controls, but she was pretty sure he could spare a minute. And if he couldn't, she'd make him.

"Doctor," she called in greeting.

He slid out and looked at them both, shouting a, "Hullo!" before pushing off with his feet and disappearing under the control panel again. "You two finished sleeping, then?" He asked rhetorically, and Amy felt herself flush a little at the reminder of the excuse they'd given him. Rory wasn't faring much better.

"Yeah, actually, and we need to talk," she informed him.

"Well talk away then, Pond, I'm listening," he replied, and she rolled her eyes in frustration before marching forward, seizing him by the lapels of his jacket, and yanking him back out again. "Woah!" He yelped in surprise at the sudden movement, and looked quite alarmed at her irritated expression.

"_We_ need to talk," she repeated, emphasizing the importance of his participation. The alien's eyes darted nervously to Rory as if looking to him for an answer as to why this was happening, but her husband merely nodded in agreement with Amy's words.

The Doctor slowly sat up. "Right, talking…yes, I can do that. So then, Ponds, what do we need to talk about?"

"Well," Rory started, walking over to join them. "You saved the universe."

"Rebooted it," the Time Lord automatically corrected.

"Ok," the other man acquiesced, "but you rebooted it…by not existing."

"Correct. And then Amy brought me back, quite brilliantly," he added with a fond smile, and her lips quirked up in response as he looked at her, but now wasn't the time to get distracted.

"But Doctor," she told him, "Before the wedding, before I woke up on my wedding day…I woke up somewhere else."

He frowned. "Somewhere else? How do you mean?"

"Well, you were there—in the Pandorica, remember?" She prompted in confusion.

He grinned sheepishly. "Bit of a blur, really. I was in the Void—"

"What's—" Rory started curiously, but the Doctor shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, I'm out now, that's what matters." Amy and Rory shared a look, as both had a feeling this Void was something very bad. They'd have to try and get him to open up about it some other time. "But then, you sort of- pulled me through, see? And I remember—but nahh," he shook his head with a look of disbelief. "Can't be, that was an alternate universe- alternate reality- you two can't possibly remember—" He pulled out the sonic and looked about to scan them, so Amy decided to save him the trouble.

"We remember it," she told him, and his eyes widened.

"You remember living in an alternate reality where I never existed?" His voice was just above a whisper. The Doctor stood from the sliding board and walked some ways from them, obviously in deep thought. When he turned back, his eyes were searching their faces, though she had no idea what he was looking for.

Amy didn't have long to dwell on that, for their friend's next question nearly stunned her. "Why would you bring me _back_?" She was astonished to see the absolutely perplexed expression on his face.

"Sorry?" She shook her head in disbelief. She must not have understood him properly, that had to be it. But he still had that look on his face.

"You were living in a world…where I didn't exist," the alien repeated, stepping toward her cautiously, like any second she might lash out at him. For what reason, she didn't know. "A life where you grew up with your parents and aunt together, Amy. No scary crack in your wall, no physiatrists, your life making sense, a life with Rory. Rory!" He exclaimed, turning sharply to look at the nurse.

"Um, yes?" Her husband asked, meeting her eyes with an equally confused look. Because _what_ was the Doctor on about?

"Not to sound rude, Rory, but until recently you haven't liked me very much."

"I wouldn't say—" the human male defended, but the Time Lord waved his protests off.

"Perfectly understandable. You saw me as competition, it's instinct. But- a world where that competition didn't exist? No imaginary friend, no dressing up as a Raggedy Doctor." He looked at them both as if he simply could not comprehend.

"Doctor—" Amy tried, but it seemed to snap him out of his contemplations.

"Do you see it, now? I'm dangerous, remember?" Rory had the grace to wince a bit at the reminder of his words. "You were living safe, happily-married lives—with no daleks, no Angels, no Silurians—no dying, no being plastic! How could you give that up for _this_?" He demanded of them, a hand sweeping back his fringe in consternation, but Amy couldn't take it anymore.

"Because it was Hell!" She snapped, and the Doctor jumped at the sudden outburst. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Amy walked right up to him until he was backed against the railing and had nowhere to run. "You listen, Raggedy Man, and you listen good. My father was left behind when we fled Scotland as refugees. My mother was killed by a dalek before I was ten. I grew up in an underground cave that we _called_ Leadworth, barely knowing Rory's _name_. And I did nothing all day except wait for whatever scrap of food we managed to find, and worry that any second we would be found and killed, or the tunnels would collapse because some alien battleship was testing their new lasers on the Earth. _That_ was my life without you."

The Doctor gaped in silent horror, seemingly rendered speechless by her words. Rory quietly joined them, standing next to his wife.

"I was part of the scavenging parties that went out looking for food and supplies and new sources of water," he said, offering his own tale. "And all I saw around me was the Earth—but it was barren and destroyed and _dead_." The Doctor flinched back at the harsh word. Rory gave a bitter chuckle. "Barely in my twenties, but I had to scour that- that wasteland, so we could struggle to survive."

"It wasn't even a life," Amy continued. "But then, I started to remember. I slowly started to remember- and I heard you," she added with a tiny smile.

"Heard me?" Their friend echoed hoarsely.

"Yeah. Just things you said, but you know what? It gave me hope. It made me think maybe there was somebody out there watching out for me. And it led me to Rory." She found her husband's hand and slipped hers into his, entwining their fingers.

"So we figured we'd go look for it," Rory told him. "Because let's face it, whatever it was had to be better than what we were doing. And that's how we found them all."

"Who all?" the Doctor asked, still stuck on repeating things, it seemed.

"Your friends," Rory replied. "Your other friends—Rose and Mickey and Martha and Jack—"

"Oh, well!" The Time Lord finally roused, "There you go! Couldn't have been all bad then, eh? Mickey still a mechanic? And Martha was probably on her way to being Chief Surgeon or something at some hospital," he had an optimistic smile on his face, as he looked for some small piece of good news. "And Rose—" his voice faltered as Amy simply shook her head.

"There weren't any hospitals, least not for humans," she informed him, and almost grinned at the indignant expression he wore for the humans' behalf. "And Mickey and Rose were living in a slum. Shacks in an alleyway."

"The aliens split up the globe," Rory explained. "Picked out the bits they wanted and set up empires."

"Spheres of influence," the Doctor said, eyes lighting up in clarity before his brow furrowed. "Who managed to organize that?"

Amy hesitated, meeting his eyes sadly as she answered, "The Time Lords." He sucked in a breath sharply and she hated to see how those three words had ripped the wound open anew.

"Still alive…" he breathed, staring off over their shoulders at something they could never hope to see, a look of longing on his face.

"But still at war," she spoke gently, trying to break the news as easily as she could, but obviously failing as his eyes became tired and sad and watery. Those big watery eyes turned on her, silently pleading with her to take those words back. Amy couldn't, but she also found she couldn't continue, so Rory did for her.

"Jack told us that in the future, the Time Lords win." A brief look of hope flashed in those ancient eyes, and her husband swallowed before speaking again. "By doing this- this Final Sanction thing—"

"No!" The Doctor cried in dismay, putting his face in his hands and not saying any more for a very long moment. This hurt, having to do this, but it had to be done. He needed to know, needed to see _why_. When at last he took a deep, shuddering breath they knew he was ready. The alien peeked out from behind his fingers, slowly lowering his hands as he stared at them in newfound wonder. "How did you survive?"

"Vincent left us a message," Amy told him, returning his weak smile in memory of the artist. "we went to the museum, just like last time. I found a painting with coordinates to the Pandorica…and Rose found the TARDIS."

He actually managed a chuckle at that, looking up and saying in a scolding tone, "Wrong museum, dear. That's cheating." The TARDIS hummed back a retort, and it seemed to further lift his spirits as he laughed again. Amy and Rory exchanged curious looks, but respected what was a private joke between a mad man and his box.

"There was a woman- Sarah Jane Smith. She stole the painting for us," Rory started, and the Doctor looked at him in interest. Her husband seemed to struggle to continue. "The Judoon, they- they killed her."

Their friend practically collapsed against the railing, and she feared he might just topple over the other side, he seemed so broken. "Sarah Jane…my Sarah Jane," he whispered, his eyes staring at nothing, and Amy had to look away, she couldn't bare it. Because even though now it never happened, that woman she barely knew had given her life for their sake, and it was tearing the Doctor apart.

"Martha got us to where they were keeping the Pandorica. She knew where it was, cause the Shadow Proclamation had her detained—" she said, wanting to try and bring him back from his horror-struck reverie. It worked.

"Detained! What for?" He exclaimed in outrage and bewilderment.

"Something about a plasmavore," she replied, and a look of guilt crossed his face briefly. "So we found the Pandorica and it opened. And there was a woman inside—Donna Noble."

"A universe where my existence was forgotten…she remembered," the alien said softly, a sad smile on his face. "And they locked her in a box for it. Oh Donna…" He staggered forward, and they let him pass, watching as he slumped almost boneless into the pilot's chair and dropped his face into his hands, elbows propped on the console. "No more, Ponds—please," he begged, the words muffled but comprehensible.

Amy looked helplessly at Rory, who shrugged before they walked over to the chair. "Sorry," she spoke quietly. "But you had to know what really happened."

"But—how?" He lifted his head to stare up at her beseechingly, and she could not believe he still wasn't grasping this. "How could everything be so wrong?"

"You weren't there," Rory pointed out, as if that explained everything. To Amy, it did. But the Doctor looked at them back and forth, like a lost child.

"But things are- the world is dangerous when I'm around…I'm dangerous. The Destroyer of Worlds," he said, in a voice filled with past regret and fresh despair. "I'd always thought a universe where I couldn't even touch it would be a good thing. How it should be. How it ought to be."

"Well, you were wrong," Rory informed the Time Lord bluntly. Amy decided to use more tact.

"Yes, the things you do sometimes are dangerous, and sometimes people get hurt or killed." She waited for him to actually meet her gaze before continuing. "But that doesn't make _you_ dangerous, Doctor. That just makes you the only one willing to brave the danger. And maybe that isn't fair, but when you're not around to do that…it's horrible."

"I mean, it makes sense," Rory said. "Who was going to travel through time and fight monsters and stop invasions if you didn't? Things get dangerous around you because you try and help people…and no one else is like that."

Their friend looked at them in remorse. "I'm sorry- I didn't think—"

"It doesn't matter. That wasn't the real problem, anyway," Amy dismissed, and he looked at her in confusion and disbelief that there could possibly be even more wrong with that terrible world they'd left behind. "Because, I have this friend. He can be a genius about almost everything, and then really stupid about the simplest stuff." She shook her head before speaking again. "He's older than I am- by a lot –but it doesn't stop him from acting like a kid half the time, and it's annoying but actually really funny," she admitted. "He always knows what to do or what to say to make things better, he's got an awful sense of fashion, and sometimes I think he's completely mad." She couldn't help chuckling a bit as she amended, "Most of the time I think he's completely mad."

She took a deep breath and continued on. "But in that other-life," her husband's lips twitched in slight amusement at her use of the familiar phrase. "He didn't exist. And even though I couldn't really remember him, everything was just _wrong_ without him, and I missed him. A lot. So much that sometimes I'd be crying and I wouldn't know why. And that made me really, really sad." Her voice had gradually grown quieter and quieter until she found it wouldn't support her anymore as he just stared at her. Amy couldn't tell what he was thinking, but his eyes were wide, and his lips slightly parted as though he wanted to speak, but the words failed him. "That was the worst part," she whispered.

The Doctor rose from his seat slowly, gazing at her with gentle, sad, tired, amazed eyes. She was finding it difficult not to just break down and start crying as a smile slowly spread over his face. "Oh Pond…come here, Amelia." She held onto him for all she was worth, instantly comforted by his warm, secure embrace. She felt one of his hands come to rest at the back of her head as he pulled away slightly, and she noticed immediately that his old eyes were brimming with tears of happiness. "Thank you, Amy," he said, and placed a reverent kiss to her forehead.

Rory was looking away uncomfortably during the exchange, and so the nurse was completely caught off guard when the Doctor released her and promptly threw his arms around him. He relaxed his stiff posture after a moment, awkwardly returning the hug, but the Roman gave a little "Oh!" of surprise when the alien actually pressed his lips to _his_ forehead as well. Amy barely managed to stifle her giggle, easily accepting a final hug as their friend brought them both in, so she was brushing sides with her husband and the Doctor's head was poking in between theirs.

"The Ponds…two of my dearest friends," he murmured, holding onto them tightly. And Amy wondered at that, for it was some of the Doctor's dear friends that they had met in that other universe. And they had all been such wonderful people; she wondered how it felt for him to never see them once they were gone. What that did to him inside, where he rarely let anyone see.

He let them go at last and spun away, hands automatically finding buttons and levers, once more the pilot. "Right, where to next?" He asked with his usual enthusiasm, and Amy found herself smiling.

"You know, we actually had to fly the TARDIS by ourselves," she commented, and he blinked in surprise.

"Really? Did it go alright?" She nodded, and he beamed. "How about that…you amazing humans. My friends, the most fantastically brilliant to ever live on the beautiful planet of Earth!" He seemed to relish saying these words, and Amy grinned back, because it was good to be home. In this universe where the Earth truly was a beautiful place, and they travelled the stars in a blue box with their friend.

"There's only one thing I don't get," Rory spoke up. "We met your friends- a lot of them anyway. And they remembered you too, that's how we all started working together." The Doctor nodded to show he understood. "Then, how did—sorry—do you know Mels?"

And wasn't that a load off her shoulders, because their childhood friend was alive and well once more. Amy nearly sagged against her husband in relief, but he had raised an interesting point. So she looked with him at the Doctor, waiting expectantly for an answer.

The alien, for his part, looked nonplussed. "Mels? Who's Mels?"

"She's a friend of ours. We grew up together. You mean you don't know her?" Amy asked, because that didn't make sense.

"Well, let me think…Mels, Mels, Mels from Leadworth…hm—oh! Knew a Mel Bush, long time ago. No?" He asked at her shaking head, and then shrugged. "Sorry, but I have never met your friend. The universe is small, especially when you're travelling it in a box- but not _that_ small, Pond."

She frowned, glancing at Rory who also looked perturbed by this issue. "But she said she could hear you saying stuff, too. Though she was acting kind of funny."

"Funny how?" He questioned, coming around to stand before them again.

"Well," she looked at Rory again for support. "Sort of, not herself. Actually, she kind of reminded me…" she trailed off, her eyes widening in realization. "River! She was acting kind of like River."

"Oh yeah," her husband nodded. "I see what you mean."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he slowly requested, "Describe your friend."

Amy and Rory shared a glance again, for a completely different reason. Though she was a very good friend, describing Mels in terms that made people like her was rather difficult. "Well, she's- err…independent," Amy supplied after wracking her brain for an adjective.

"Really independent," Rory agreed, "has absolutely no respect for authority. Ow!" Amy had elbowed him in the ribs and now he rubbed at the sore spot.

"So she has a free spirit. It can be fun…when you're not bailing her out of jail," she cringed a bit as she said it, remembering countless nights where they would sit in her room, and she and Rory would try to get Mels to see why she needed to stop doing illegal things. Mels took it as she needed to stop getting caught doing illegal things. The Doctor merely hummed in interest as he went back to flying the TARDIS.

"But, you know, it really just adds to her, uh, charm," Rory tried, attempting to defend their friend's character. Because the Doctor was their best friend, but so was Mels and neither of them wanted their two best friends to dislike each other. "I mean, loads of people like her. I guess it's because she's attractive." Amy shot him a look, and dutifully her husband hastened to add, "That is, if you're kind of into that 'bad girl' kind of thing—which I'm not," he laughed nervously, and it was almost entertaining to make him think she was still annoyed. "But, uh, Mels is just sort of—"

"Yowza!"

"What?" Amy raised an eyebrow at the alien, who blinked and for some reason turned a sort of pink color. It made her rather suspicious about what exactly the word 'yowza' meant to the Doctor.

"Sorry, I was going to say you could stop," their friend amended, and Amy crossed her arms at his deflection. "I think I understand what may have happened. You see, Amy, your friend Mels is rather similar to our Dr. Song—"

"Is that why she's also 'yowza'?" Amy pressed, but he merely spun around to the other side of the console and threw another switch. Then the Time Lord poked his head around the time rotor to continue his explanation.

"But you met River through me, and since I wasn't there in that universe to introduce you two, you would have never met. You couldn't remember River at first because your mind associates her with me."

"For a pretty good reason," she pointed out.

"Anyway," he said loudly, hiding once more behind the time rotor, and Amy rolled her eyes. This was worse than immature. She had to wonder how the archeologist ever put up with him—because she was _so_ his wife. "You instead replaced her with the very compatible Mels, someone who has no ties to me."

"Then, why did River show up later?" Rory asked, another valid question. Amy nodded in acknowledgement, which the Doctor saw because he finally came back around to their side of the console.

"What happened to Mels in that universe? She wasn't there when the Pandorica opened."

Amy swallowed. Even if it hadn't actually happened, it was still hard to say. "She died. She and Jack were fighting the Judoon, and they shot her." Rory wrapped an arm around her, which she was glad to accept.

The Doctor, however, gave a satisfied smile, like he'd just solved the puzzle. "By that point, when the Pandorica was opened, you had nearly remembered me. That, in turn allowed you to remember River, and since Mels was killed, your mind was able to insert her in your friend's place. See? Simple."

"I suppose," Amy said. "I just wish Mels didn't have to die for that to happen- I know it didn't _really_ happen but—"

He placed his hand on her shoulder, his smile now gentle and sympathetic. "I understand. Just remember that River and Mels are both alive and well now—you could even introduce them if you wanted!"

She and Rory both laughed at that, each thinking about what disastrous effect that might have. Not the best plan to give Mels even more ideas, or vice versa. She briefly entertained the mental image of the archeologist and the delinquent graffiti-ing the oldest cliff face in the universe together with the words 'Hello, Sweetie', and decided for her alien friend's sake that that should never happen.

"That's probably not the best plan, Doctor," she informed him. "Besides, are we even going to see River again? You don't seem to keep in contact with a lot of people…" she wished she could take the words back as his smile slipped and he withdrew his hand from her shoulder.

"Oh, we'll see her again, I should think," he tried for his usual confidence, but his smile was flat and didn't reach his eyes.

"So, uh, how exactly does that work?" Rory asked, obviously to distract them from this rather uncomfortable moment. "She just leaves you messages so that you'll show up and do your 'save the day' thing?"

It put Amy in mind of her 'Heel boy!' comment, and it clearly did so for the Doctor, for he stubbornly shook his head. "No, no, it's not always like that." He was fiddling with the control panel again, not looking at them, so Amy stepped forward to get his attention.

"Really? Cause that's what it looks like to everybody else."

"Well, everybody else isn't there all the time," he retorted, but immediately looked up in alarm at Amy's predatory grin.

"So there _is_ something going on between you two," she declared smugly, as he backed away from her and nervously scratched at his cheek. "Out with it, Raggedy Man."

"There's nothing _between_ us, Pond," he insisted, becoming increasingly uneasy as she followed him around the console. He wasn't getting away that easy. "It's just- well, sometimes I see River first, and—"

"Ooh, you pick her up in the TARDIS?" She cooed with exaggerated sweetness. "Show her the stars?"

"Stop it," he practically whined, but she was on a roll.

"Treat her to dinner?"

"No."

"Shopping at a marketplace in a distant galaxy? She's got to get those clothes somewhere."

"No!"

"No, you're right. The TARDIS has a wardrobe." She gave an overly-scandalized gasp and said with an accompanying eyebrow waggle, "Or maybe you two just have a night in."

He was completely red in the face and stammering all over the place. "N-no!"

Amy was having way too much fun with this. "Careful, Doctor, just make sure you have her home before her dad starts to worry. Have you met the in-laws yet?"

The Time Lord had gone full-circle around the console, and in his haste to get away from her, he bumped right into Rory with a squeak of surprise. Their friend then leapt away from the Roman, tripped over his own pilot's chair, and crashed to the floor in a tangle of his gangly limbs. Amy was hugging her sides in laughter while Rory himself chuckled at the alien's antics.

"A picnic!" The Doctor finally exclaimed crossly from his position sprawled on the floor, which had the effect of quieting both the Ponds, but also making them doubly curious.

"Aw, that's so sweet!" She said, completely genuine this time. "Where was it?"

"Asgard," he muttered as he stood back up and brushed imagined dirt off himself, still quite red in embarrassment.

She couldn't help pointing out her victory. "So you _did_ take River on a date."

"It wasn't a date," he snapped. "It was an—apology."

"An apology for what?" Rory inquired, and the alien sighed heavily.

"Everything." He spoke the word so miserably, with his shoulders slumped and his head hung low, and Amy sidled up to him and touched his arm. He glanced at her, yet his eyes weren't sad—they were grieving.

"Hey…I'll bet she loved it," she assured him quietly, and some of the guilt washed away from his expression. Still, she couldn't resist adding, "because she's your _wife_," in a teasing voice, and playfully pushed him.

The Doctor gave an irritated huff. "I think you're getting confused, Pond. Because," he took her hand, and tugged her over a few feet so that she was next to Rory, and handed her off to him. "The only married people on this TARDIS are Ponds. Now, since the last wedding present didn't go exactly as planned—"

"I'd say it wasn't at all like the plan," Rory offered, but the Time Lord chose to ignore it.

"How about something for the honeymoon, eh?"

She and Rory exchanged skeptic looks. They appreciated the sentiment, but…

"What did you have in mind?" Amy asked slowly. "Because, you know, we don't need you to take us somewhere, or, uh—" Trying to convey that they didn't really want the alien along for their honeymoon was not an easy task. But she needn't have bothered.

"A Starliner touring the Horse Head Nebula on Christmas Eve, fully booked." He crossed one foot behind the other at the ankle, leaning with a hand braced on the console and waiting for their reaction.

"Ok, so what's that have to do with us?" Rory asked in mild confusion.

"Except the honeymoon suite," the Doctor finished, and as their eyes widened in realization, his lips pulled up in a grin. She rushed forward and hugged him.

"Oh, thank you!" She cried in excitement, and he laughed as he returned it briefly. Rory stepped forward next to gratefully clap him on the shoulder.

"Well, get packing, Ponds. You've got a ship to board," he waved them off to their room, and Amy eagerly grabbed Rory's hand and pulled him from the room.

OoO

The two humans hurried off to get their luggage ready, and the Doctor's shoulders dropped as yet another sigh escaped him that evening. It would only be a couple days, and if he really wanted, the time traveler could drop them off, dematerialize, and then rematerialize just in time to pick them up. But still…

He was happy for them, his two friends. They were so very much in love and devoted to each other. If ever he knew a couple that should be together, it was these two.

But marriage? Marriage was just another milestone, another step, from Amelia Pond…to Amy Williams.

Still such a child inside, Prisoner Zero had remarked, but his little Amelia was growing up before his eyes. And all too soon.

Yes, it was selfish. It was the absolute worst, wretched thing for him to think. But he couldn't help it, he wasn't the shining, model hero his friends always thought of him as. At least, they started out thinking that.

No, he didn't keep contact with many people. Mostly it was for his own sake, the old man who couldn't stand to watch the short lives of his friends bloom and flare and then wither and fade into ending. But it was also for their sake.

Because as Mickey grew into his own man, reliable and strong in both body and character, he didn't need a Boss to stand in the shadow of.

Because as Martha lost the doe-eyed innocence of first-love, she didn't need to be second-best—should have never felt second-best—she needed to get out.

Because as Jack became a dependable leader, accepted and admired and even adored by his team, he didn't need to feel like he was something wrong.

Because as Sarah Jane gave up waiting and had a life of her own, she didn't need the constant reminder of the act that was tough to follow.

Because as Rose stood on a beach on the worst day of her life, she didn't need a love that would never be spoken or realized, left to grow dusty and stale with the ceaseless passage of time, she needed one love with one heart and one life to spend.

Because as Donna spent day in and out with a husband and a family, she didn't need a Martian to remind her that she was settling, she needed to forget…forever.

Soon, so very soon, the Ponds—the Williams'—would join that list. That list that stretched on and on, the living and the dead, all accounted for in his nine-hundred and seven years of life. And as Amy and Rory set out on that wonderful journey called marriage, they left him standing at the start line, growing further and further away from him.

Everybody knew that everybody died, and nobody knew it quite like him. But he also knew that everybody lived. Everybody moved on. Everybody grew up and left their childhood dreams behind. Including imaginary friends.

And the Doctor—Doc, Professor, Spaceman, Raggedy Man, my Raggedy Doctor, my Lonely Angel, my love, my Doctor, mineminemine—who gave himself to everybody, was cast away time and again. Locked up in the big, blue toy-box to wait for another friend to love and leave him.

Where he ought to be. But not where he wanted to be.

**So that's that. I hope this epilogue was a good mix of the serious and the humorous. It ran a bit long, but I figure you guys won't mind. So let me say one final time, thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, and inspiring me to write this story! It was definitely a challenge at times, but I'm glad I undertook it, and most of the reason I was able to finish was because of your support. Thanks for taking the time to read this story, and please let me know what you thought!**


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